


It’s the Small Things (That Change the World)

by Makkoska



Series: Small Things [1]
Category: Naruto
Genre: "What If" fic, Alcohol, Canonish AU, Happy Ending AU, M/M, Tobirama doesn't approve, Yaoi, frequent appearances of Tobirama, old konoha, relationship promlems, spoilers for recent manga chapters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-30
Updated: 2013-06-27
Packaged: 2017-12-10 00:19:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 31,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/779635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Makkoska/pseuds/Makkoska
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The point has come in Hashirama’s life when he has to choose between the good of the village and his personal feelings, but he’d rather not give up on either. Canonish AU, HashiMada</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Beneficial Marriage

**Author's Note:**

> This is my attempt at a “happy ending AU” where Madara doesn’t leave Konoha, because there’s a limit to the tragedy of this pairing I can stomach. Will be quite a few chapters long.

“...would be beneficial, don’t you think? As for the Shimura clan, they should fall under the same category as...”

 

Hashirama dropped his hand back on the table with a resigned sigh. He raised it minutes ago, in a vain attempt to interrupt his brother. Tobirama was in full arrangement mode - it was easier to let him carry on and sort out everything he deemed important when he was like this. It was better for both of them if he didn’t interfere; the younger Senju was happy if things went in a direction he thought good and Hashirama didn’t mind at all if the bother of dealing with a million little, but still important things was not up to him. They honestly made his life as the Hokage way more bitter than it should have been.

 

“...set a regular visiting hour. You can’t afford to waste your time on everyone’s torn toe in the village.”

 

“Yeah, I’ve been thinking that it’s not too late to ditch this whole leader-of-the-village thing, just to be rid of everyone’s complaints” he grinned at the white haired man. The red eyes regarded him without amusement.

 

“Very funny. So as I’ve been saying...”

 

He sighed again and gave up listening. Tobirama was good in this, he was confident he would make the right decision without his opinion (not that he asked for it anyway) - so he just nodded and hmm-ed at the appropriate places and otherwise let his mind wander. He had more pleasant things to consider whether the Naras, who recently joined their alliance, were happy with the neighbourhood they got or if the dogs of the Inuzuka clan were bothering the Hyuugas or not. Like the very pleasant time he spent with Madara last night. His lover was more relaxed and open than usual and Hashirama cherished these rare occasions. The corners of his mouth pulled upwards into am involuntary smile, so he quickly hid it behind his clasped hands to hide it from his brother. He hadn’t got much sleep, but he didn’t mind. The memory of long, lean legs pressing against his sides, slender, wicked fingers pulling his hair and sharp white teeth sinking into his shoulder made up for that. He had a bruise there, carefully hidden under the formal clothes he wore to his office.

 

Tobirama was looking at him expectantly so he quickly nodded and said “hmm, sure.” His brother’s eyebrows rose in annoyance, a sure sign of that he didn’t manage to fool him, but he still continued on with his monologue.

 

“...another good candidate. Still, I think we’re best to choose the Uzumakis. It’s a good idea to strengthen the bond with them.”

 

“Yes...”

 

It’d been rocky for a while, after - just as Tobirama predicted - he was voted to become the first Hokage of Konoha. He still felt ill at ease with that - he maintained that Madara would have made an excellent - much scrupulous than him - leader, but no one else seemed to share his opinion. He didn’t think he was partial because of their special, err... status. No, he truly believed the Uchiha was a better man than him, with all the care he had for his people. The loss of his brothers made him bitter, but he could understand that. If he was given the opportunity to take responsibility for a new family - such as their village - he would change. But that wasn’t an option any longer. He had to think of something else. He wanted Madara to be happy and satisfied with his life...

 

“... so the sooner the better you visit Uzushiogakure. I heard the girl is rather pretty - a redhead of course. She’s said to have a few powerful techniques of her own, but I’m sure there’s a lot you can learn from her father as well. Mito’s her name.”

 

“Sounds great. Who’s she by the way?”

 

Tobirama blinked as the question cut him off and Hashirama realized he just gave himself away. He obviously missed an important part before.

 

“Your bride-to-be,” the younger man said dryly after a minute of uncomfortable silence.

 

“But I don’t want to get married!”

 

“Too bad - you will.”

 

“Listen brother,” he stood and stepped close up to the other. As Tobirama was one of the two men who was never intimidated by his presence this didn’t had the desired effect. He could see the annoyance in the crimson eyes clearly. “I appreciate your intentions, but I’m not about to marry this Mito or anyone else, really. It’s not your place to decide...”

 

“Hashirama,” the albino put a heavy hand on his shoulder and stared at him with grim determination. “It’s unavoidable in your position. Such a marriage will strengthen your, and so the whole village’s status. As the eldest brother, as the leader of our clan, as the leader of the allied clans - you have to get a wife. A political marriage - you had to know it was coming, right?”

 

“Still, I’d like to choose my...”

 

“You’re obviously not going to find an appropriate candidate by yourself, I know how you’re like,” Tobirama pressed on as if he didn’t hear him. “You’re an idealist and sometimes just fail at practical things. As father is not with us any more, I felt I had to take matters into my own hand, so I wrote to Mito’s father, who’s actually the leader of...”

 

“You’ve _what?”_  Even Tobirama couldn’t ignore the indignation in his voice this time so he fell silent. “You shouldn’t have! I’m not about to take this unknown woman - your interference will cause us trouble...”

 

“You’re not going to refuse brother, because this is what you _have to_ do...”

 

“I have someone!”

 

“Well,” the nerve under the younger Senju’s eye twitched as he set his chin up in defiance, “ _she_ is obviously not suitable to become your wife.”

 

“Actually...”

 

“I don’t want to know!” Tobirama interrupted, louder than necessary. “We all have our desires, and I really don’t care how you satisfy your, ehh... urges, but marriage is something completely different.”

 

“My urges? You shouldn’t meddle with certain things, brother. I hoped you outgrown this habit.”

 

“Don’t be an idiot! It’s not meddling - I’m just not blind! Lucky that the rest of the village is, especially when it comes to you.”

 

“You think you can dictate...”

 

“Think about your responsibilities, your duties! Use your brain - that would make you a better Hokage! You’re not eighteen any more, to let your prick make your decisions.”

 

“Tobirama!” the dark haired Senju cried, honestly scandalized, “How can you even say that?”

 

“Oh, don’t play innocent with me! I don’t even want to begin to imagine what you and that... _him_... are up to behind closed doors!”

 

“This conversation ends here,” He strengthened his spine, trying to look more authoritative, not that it ever worked with his busybody brother.  They were almost equal in height so he couldn’t even use his tallness as an advantage, which had an involuntary effect on most people. “I’m not discussing my relationship with Madara with you, and I’m definitely not getting married to some unknown girl.”

 

“Your relationship? _Relationship_! Don’t call it a relationship! You can’t possibly have a relationship with...”

 

“Would you stop repeating...?!”

 

“No, I won’t!” Still he fell silent and glared at his brother, obviously fuming. He had inherited their father’s temper - he definitely didn’t take much after their mum, who had been a firm but kind woman. Hashirama was now angry himself. It wasn’t like this how he wanted to break the news about Madara and him. No, in all honestly, he didn’t plan to have this discussion at all, but Tobirama was always too smart and a too good observer for his own good. Actually now that it was out in the open he felt relieved. He didn’t like to keep secrets from those who were important to him. He just wished the younger man wouldn’t look so furious and disgusted by it.

 

“Tobirama, listen,” he started, keeping his voice even, “I understand it’s a shock, and I know you don’t... approve. But you have to respect my decision.”

 

“You know what, brother? I’ve been respecting your decisions in all my life, even if they were beyond my comprehension. You wanted to keep _him_ alive, you were ready to take your own life on _his_ wish, you declared this village was your common dream, though I never heard of that before - I didn’t think they made sense, but what could I do? But just as wanting to make him the Hokage was too much, this is over the top as well. Declining such a beneficial marriage with only that... Uchiha as the reason? There’s too much at stake for that! Too many lives would be affected and you can’t afford that!

 

“But...”

 

“Would you just open your eyes?!” Tobirama snarled, “Why can’t you see how he is? Even his own clan have chosen you over him - you _must_ know the reason for that! He’s cracked, dangerous, unpredictable and definitely taking advantage of your softness!”

 

“That’s enough,” Hashirama’s voice was calm, emotionless. His brother understood the warning behind the tone quite well and fell silent. It was not something he ever used with him, but probably he heard it on the battlefields enough to know what it meant. “You won’t talk about him like that. I know my responsibilities, but I’m not about to sacrifice my personal feelings on the line of duty. We are strong enough already, and we can make allies by other means as well.”

 

Tobirama didn’t reply for a while. He stared at somewhere over his left shoulder with a frown between his brows, as if trying to come up with the best words. Giving that up, he raked his fingers through his hair and shook his head.

 

“Do you even hear yourself? You do so much for our people already, no one disputes that, but when it comes to him, you’re ready to throw away everything on a whim. How can the two of you be more important than the good of the whole village?”

 

“I don’t feel I have to choose between the two.”

 

“That’s only because you don’t see clearly! Why him, brother? You could have anyone - why him, who so obviously doesn’t return your affection? Who certainly doesn’t deserve it?”

 

“Don’t say that!” his voice was firm, not belying the bit of doubt that crept into his heart. His brother’s accusation resonated with his own fears deep inside. He wanted to believe Madara cared for him, but he didn’t have much proof of that. But he didn’t want to show his sudden uncertainty. “You don’t know a thing about him. You’re the one who don’t see clearly because of all your prejudices!”

 

“This is worse than I thought!” Tobirama shook a warning finger in front of his face. “Tell me - what does he know to bewitch you so completely?”  If he didn’t count their trainings together, they hadn’t fought since they were kids, but Hashirama now had the urge to grab his ear and teach him he should respect his age and position. But he wasn’t ten any more, and even back then this method never got anything through to his brother’s thick head.

 

“I’m not discussing my sex life with you!” He flushed realizing a second too late Tobirama might have not meant that at all.

 

“Bah! As if I wanted you to!” By the face he made, he actually looked ten for a second and that always made Hashirama forgive him a lot of things

 

“Listen, why can’t you just let this go?” he asked, trying to be placating.

 

“I’ll stop for _now,_ ‘cause there’re mental images I’m not prepared to deal with,” the younger man grumbled, “but we’re far from finished!”

 

When finally left alone, Hashirama sat at his desk for a long time, staring ahead, but unseeing. Political battles, family quarrels, tactical arrangements - he wasn’t fit for these. He was made to fight in war - why did he ever thought that he could lead a village? It was a hundred times harder than anything he did before.

****

**_TBC…_ **


	2. A decision impossible to make

*/*/*

 

  
Outside night started to fall. In no time he could hardly make out what was right under his nose, but he didn’t move yet to make light. The more he thought about his brother’s words, the more sense they made. Tobirama, from his point of view, was right. He was expected to get married, to father children just as he was expected to protect his village. That there was no woman who he wanted the slightest was not something that should have mattered. He was old enough to realize that dreaming of a common life with another boy - now a man as well - was not appropriate. Not something the first leader of the first shinobi village should consider for a moment.

 

But to deny Madara, to put an end to their relationship, something he worked so bloody hard to keep up, was unbearable. He tried to think about it realistically - it wasn’t as if they could admit their connection. So even if he married, it wouldn’t even make a difference. They could continue like they were now. Men had secret lovers all the time, though admittedly they rarely were the leader of a not-long-ago hostile clan, an old rival. But of course the Uchiha was more than that - his best friend from childhood, someone whose company he longed for since the moment they met. To take a wife - it would feel like cheating.

 

He tried to picture what Madara would say if he got married. He would probably be deeply affronted to be second to a woman and never let Hashirama touch him again. Even worse was the thought that he might not care at all. He rarely returned his affections, something that the Senju usually could put down for him being a much more reserved person than he was. But there were times he feared his friend might not feel anything for him at all, that he just gave in because he got fed up with saying no to his persistent trying, or maybe because he hoped to gain something by it...

 

It took him over two years to get under that seemingly cold surface. If it had been anyone else, he would have given up long ago - after all, there were enough volunteers to get in bed with him. Pity that he didn’t want them at all. He wanted Madara only since he met him by the river when they weren’t even fourteen yet. He even told him so, a decade later, not that he accepted his words.

 

But still... he was almost completely sure the Uchiha had to feel something for him as well. All those small signs - anyone else, who didn’t know him so well, would have missed them, but he… he could see them. The doubts would maybe always remain, but if he thought about them, he could get a bit of reassurance. In over a year of secret relationship he learned to focus on these, to cherish their memories. Like that time Madara first let himself be kissed...

 

*/*/*

 

...over there. We’ll also need a big building, where the leaders of the major clans can gather regularly. It could be some kind of a committee, to lead the village,” the Senju made a wide gesture with his arms, trying to convey his still vague ideas a bit better than his words managed.

 

“You can’t possibly leave the leadership of the village to a group of people,” Madara shook his head. His thick hair followed the movement lazily, spilling messy locks before his eyes. Hashirama completely lost his thread or speech as he had to keep himself back from smoothing the black locks out of that pale face. “They’d be at each other’s throat by the end of first day. We need one strong leader - he can have counsellors of course,” he continued on, unaware of the taller man’s internal struggle.

 

“Err, yeah, you’re right,” he said quickly when those sensuous, dark eyes looked at him questioningly. “A leader and his advisor, sounds like a plan.” Though he had a different idea up till now, he was taken with Madara’s conception immediately. The Uchiha would surely make an excellent head of their village, even more so if he was there to help with his advices if needed. Together they could build the strongest shinobi community - something they used to plan as kids. Who would have thought they could really manage it? It was a dream came true.

 

He smiled at his friend, but he already turned away from him, looking at the constructions with a thoughtful frown between his arched brows -so Hashirama settled for watching him. His face was mostly hidden under his dark hair, the late afternoon sunlight creating sharp contrast with the shadows under his eyes and cheekbones. He seemed unaware of the Senju’s admiring gaze. That was quite improbable though, more likely he chose to ignore it, as was his tactic lately when Hashirama tried to push him for their friendship to _deepen_.

 

He used to protest that he didn’t want anything like _that,_ but nowadays he usually just remained silent and even let the other man touch him now and then. Nothing inappropriate though - just a light hand on his back or arm, anything else, like a caress on his hair, he immediately shook off.

 

He would have given up if he was anyone else. He could take ‘no’ gracefully enough normally - but with Madara that was just impossible. When they were apart he could only think about him, his eyes, his hair, that lithe but strong body he must had under his loose clothes, his scent, his voice...And when they were together, it actually got worse, because he was _right there,_ but still out of his reach. It was that day, in the village that just started to build, when he couldn’t take it anymore.

 

Talking, they walked back leisurely to the edge of the clearing, to the temporary huts where they usually spent the night. People stopped what they were doing as they passed to greet them and bowed their head. Hashirama smiled and nodded to each and every of them, though their faces were nothing but a bur very soon. Madara however remained impassive, as if he didn’t hear or see them, so he nudged him, urging him in a low whisper to respond to their men. He was rewarded with an annoyed glare, but otherwise his companion’s behaviour didn’t change until they were in his house. When the door closed behind them, the shorter man whirled on him in obvious fury.

 

“How dare you order me around, especially if people can see and hear it?!” his locks flew around his face as he shook his head in anger. He stepped up close to Hashirama, setting his chin up.

 

“I didn’t...”

 

“You can keep your suggestions to yourself. _I_ know how to behave...”

 

“But I just... Being a bit more friendly and open wouldn’t hurt...”

 

“We’re not their equal, but their leader! Do you get that? You can’t walk around with that ridiculous grin of yours. They won’t respect you at all...!”

 

“I don’t think that acting haughty and unapproachable would raise anyone’s esteem of you, Madara,” Hashirama was hurt by his words, but tried not to show it. Too often he backed down if it came to an argument between them, but this was important enough to hold his ground. “They already respect both of us for our power and for what we achieved. They know we are human, why pretend otherwise?” he stepped closer as well, reaching out, for once desperate to be better with words, to make his friend understand what he tried to say.

 

“Don’t you see how you leave yourself open like this? Do you think we don’t have enemies any longer? That we don’t have to be cautious of a stab in the back any more? You can never trust anyone! How can you be still alive if you haven’t even learned that yet? What kind of shinobi are you...” he was right in his face by now and shoved Hashirama on the chest. Unthinking, the Senju seized his hand and pressed it to his heart.

 

“Is that why you’re so cold with me as well? You don’t trust me either, do you,” his voice was shaky with all the emotions swirling inside him. He was aware he was showing weakness, something Madara so obviously despised, but right then it was beyond his control.

 

“I trust you as much as I’m willing to trust anyone,” the Uchiha replied at a calmer tone, turning his glance away. He tried to pull his hand back, but Hashirama didn’t let him go.

 

“That’s not enough! I want you to understand; you can put your faith in me - I swear to never let you down...”

 

“Honestly, you fool,” Madara snarled, trying to twist his arm out from his grip, so he tightened his hold, “who the hell wants you to promise such a thing? I certainly don’t need you to!”

 

“But I want you to accept me as your friend, to open up to me - we’re building _our_ village together, just like we planned! Aren’t you happy about that? You and I together - we can do anything! We are unstoppable! If only you’d...”

 

“Stop this nonsense! I’m not interested in your dreams and idealism. We’re building the village, yes, but it’s built on blood and death, not on two stupid kids’ dreams! This talk about you and I... we are allies, but we’ve been deadly enemies not that long ago. That will always remain between us.”

 

“That can’t be,” Hashirama suppressed the sadness he felt at those words, steeling himself for not letting this pass. “We have this connection - I’ve always considered you to be my friend, even when we fought. I’ve never wanted to hurt you and well... I’ve told you already, I want us to be even more.”

 

“Let go of my hand,” Madara replied coldly. His dark eyes were hard, not showing his emotions at all.

 

“No.”

 

“I warn you...”

 

“Madara, don’t do this! Haven’t I done everything to...”

 

“Shut up, you...”

 

They were struggling now, the Uchiha trying hard to free his arm from his grasp. Despite his slender frame he had considerable power in his stringy muscles, so Hashirama had to strengthen his hold to the point where he was afraid; he would leave bruises. Madara swung his free hand in a half-serious attempt to hit him, so he grabbed the other bony wrist as well and pulled him flush against his chest. Then, as the shorter man raised his head to berate him for his actions, he just couldn’t resist any more.

 

He pressed his mouth down on his friend’s tempting, half-opened lips, kissing him as deeply as the rather awkward position allowed. To his surprise, it was returned. He moaned as that clever, wicked tongue bumped against his own. Arousal run through his body, igniting, it seemed, each and every of his nerve endings.  His grip slackened, his palms running up on Madara’s arms, to take hold of his shoulders, and trying to pull him even closer, though that was hardly possible. He was getting stiff already, his mind clouded over with yearning for more. He wanted to devour the other man, to hold him like this forever. He grabbed a handful of the other’s thick hair and pulled his head back so he could kiss him even more thoroughly.

 

  
But when he thought he might just die from lack of air and repressed desire, it suddenly ended. Madara pulled back just an inch - he didn’t let him more - and in the next instant he felt the cold bite of a kunai against his throat.

 

“What,” the Uchiha hissed with indignation, though he was obviously short of breath “do you think you’re doing?!”

 

“I just... well, you’ve obviously...” Hashirama stammered. When the blade didn’t waver at all, he irritably tried to brush it away. It was sharp enough to draw a thin cut on the tender skin above his collar bone. Apparently reluctantly, Madara lowered his hand.

“What the hell is your problem?” the Senju found his voice at last, as he wiped off the blood that gushed forth. “Pulling a weapon when I just...”

 

“Try something like this again, and you won’t get away so easily!”

 

“But you liked it!”

 

“I did not! Don’t think the same of me as of yourself! You might have this... _taint_ , but that doesn’t mean I’m happy if you force yourself on me.”

 

“Force myself on you...?” he was getting angry now. He could understand objections, hesitation, but this plain denial was just too much. When Madara tried to shoot him out the door, he set his foot and grabbed his arms again. “Admit that you liked it,” he demanded.

 

“Get off me,” Madara’s voice was barely louder than a whisper. Despite his words, his tone was sensual, at least for Hashirama, who chose to ignore the warning in that low growl. He leaned in, until their foreheads almost touched.

 

“Admit it,” he murmured.

 

“I’ll never...”

 

“I’ll still know,” he kissed his friend again. The Uchiha’s muscles flexed under his hand as he tried to get out of his arms, but he didn’t make the mistake to let him go this time. His heart was pounding like mad with excitement when Madara stopped trying to push him away and embraced him instead...

 

*/*/*

 

Hashirama smiled into the darkness of his office as he touched his neck where the kunai cut him more than a year ago. The thin scar was long gone of course, but he got more bruises for his efforts later. Madara hadn’t lied about never really admitting that he liked what was going on between them, but the memory of that first kiss was still sweet. It took him so long to get there and getting more from his friend was a taxing work on every occasion, but... it was worth it. Would he be ready to sacrifice that, to cheat his lover with a marriage, beneficial as it may be?

 

The question was still there - would Madara care at all? He liked Hashirama if he liked anyone, he was sure of that, but he never really shown that he returned his strong feelings. No matter how long he remained in the unlit room, he didn’t get closer to a solution of this dilemma.

 

****

**_TBC…_ **


	3. Tobirama

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters are rather hectic in length, so when it’s a shorter one (like this), I’ll try to come out with the update sooner.

 

Tobirama was fuming for hours after that maddening conversation with his brother. It couldn’t be happening, he told himself over and over again. Hashirama just couldn’t be such a fool - sure, he always had the tendency to be taken by strange ideas, had been coming up with them from... well, probably since he could talk - but in this last half a year or so, since he was elected to be the Hokage, he had turned more dutiful, taking things more seriously. One could say he was painstaking in his leadership, taking all the weight of responsibility onto himself without a word, so the younger Senju just couldn’t fathom why saying yes to this marriage was even a question.

 

It was bloody Uchiha Madara who had this terrible effect on him. He’d never understood the friendship between them. They were so different, like night and day. What did they have in common to maintain such a bond? That bastard was everything he despised in a ninja; cruel, sly, bloodthirsty, narrow-minded and to make it even worse, seemingly balancing on the verge of insanity - though maybe his behaviour was considered normal amongst the Uchihas, he couldn’t tell. So why did his brother lose his head completely when it came to him?

 

He’d been suspecting that the two had more going on between them than simple friendship for a while, but never imagined it was something that could make Hashirama decline a bond with the Uzumakis - something that would strengthen their village considerably. Didn’t he claim that Konoha was what he was aiming for ever, what he was living for? Still he was ready to deny it for the sake of such an unacceptable liaison? Was the... _physical satisfaction_ worth it? Was it more important than their people?

 

“Damn it to hell,” he snarled, smashing his fist against the wall of his room. In his anger he added a bit too much chakra to the movement, so he pretty much broke a hole through it.  That didn’t do much to improve his mood.

 

Why was it always that cursed Madara who stood between them? Almost a decade has passed since it first happened. He remembered still how worried he had been when he and their dad rushed to the riverbank, could clearly recall the fear that gripped his insides; the well-founded dread that he was going to lose his last living brother because of the scheming of the Uchihas.

 

It was stupid, but even after all this time it still hurt how Hashirama refused to talk to him for days after that incident. Tobirama hadn’t been much more than ten at the time, but he was still pretty sure he did the right thing. It wasn’t betrayal, it wasn’t petty telling on his older sibling. No, he was actually saving his stupid hide when he walked blindly into a trap. But he never, even years later, received an acknowledgment for that.

 

If it came to the cracked Sharigan user, he’d always become the second for Hashirama. It didn’t matter how many battles they fought together, that they buried first their brothers, then their parents, that they were both still very young when they remained completely alone, he was never the most important to him.

 

Sure, his own feelings towards his brother had always been controversial. On one hand he admired his strength, his determination and his cheerfulness, that he could smile so easily after all the tragedies in their lives. He was barely seventeen when he’d become the leader of their clan, and Tobirama had been so proud of him... On the other hand, he was just annoyingly irresponsible at times, he had the mood swings that always got on the albino’s nerves and, above all, he was ready to throw away anything and everything if Madara asked him so.

 

There, at the river bank, he had obviously been ready to run away from his family if the other boy was willing to do the same. On the battlefield when they finally defeated him, he wanted to take his own life on the bastard’s request. Now, he was refusing to take Uzumaki Mito as his wife because of his unacceptable relation to him.

 

It was maddening, and it was also... sad. His brother, despite his faults, was a good man. He deserved someone to make him happy - and it was glaringly obvious that Madara would never be that someone. But Hashirama was so _smitten_ with him. But why, why him of all people? It was bad enough that it was a man his brother chose. As the Hokage, he was in the focus of attention, growing the risk of this illicit... liaison? romance? relationship? he didn’t even know what to call it... So this illicit thing to get out into the open. Then he’d lose the respect of people, leaving the village without a trusted leader, opening a path to war and chaos again.

 

But even if his brother wasn’t in such a position, having Madara as his lover just wouldn’t do. He could stomach that he preferred men - though the gods knew, he never acted in a way to raise any suspicion on his taste... Or did he, and Tobirama was just blind to the signs?

 

Truth to be told, he had been almost eighteen when he first showed any interest in girls, but in certain things he was always rather slow. Well, he had been a bit awkward as a young teen, but by that time he’d grown his hair and chose clothes that fit him. He also became the leader of their clan and radiated off power without being conscious of it, which certainly helped his chances to go out with someone. So it wasn’t the lack of candidates or confidence that made him wait so long. He just didn't seem very enthusiastic about the other sex, he didn’t talk much - if at all - about tits and arses in excited whispers as boys of their ages were bound to do. Nor was he daydreaming about pretty faces and seductive glances as the more timid ones did. But the younger Senju always assumed that he was just too busy with fights, their enemies, the duties to their clan and the constant training to become stronger to have time for anything else.

 

Tobirama had always kept an eye on him - though his brother possessed unmatched might, he felt he was responsible for him still. Of the two of them, he was the more down-to-earth since their childhood, the one who thought things through and was realistic, while Hashirama lived for his dreams. They made an effective pair - he helped him to achieve those dreams, to make them work in reality, and assisted with the everyday things his older brother could be sometimes so hopeless.

 

So when it came to sex, it had been Tobirama who urged him to finally relax and have some fun with a girl. Though he had been only fifteen at the time, he was sure he already had more experience in that matter than his brother did. Hashirama had been reluctant, but went along in the end. Many girls hoped he’d choose them, but he picked the most closed up one.  She wasn’t particularly pretty as he recalled, with her unruly black hair, pale face and no curves to speak of, flat chest, narrow hips... Now that he suddenly understood who she resembled he felt a bit sick. Was Hashirama pining after the bastard even back then? They had clashed so often, and Madara, who became the leader of his own clan not long after his brother was elected to be theirs, killed so many of their people. When had he started to have this... addiction for Madara? Who would have thought he was fantasising about him even then? He was never a good actor, how did he manage to keep this in secret from him?

 

But at fifteen he didn’t even suspect that his brother, the young and powerful leader of the Senju clan, someone whom might was respected by men and masculinity desired by women, might not fancy females at all. He was together with that woman, that... Madara-look-alike, for half a year maybe. She was nothing remarkable really - Tobirama couldn’t even recall her name no matter how he tried. She had been a kunoichi, but not a particularly talented one for that. She’d died on one of the many battlefields - Hashirama was sad, but not devastated over losing her. Whatever she meant to him, it wasn’t really deep. She was, he could see it clearly now, just a substitution as he couldn’t have who he was pining after. He certainly wouldn’t have been ready to spill his own guts if she told him so.

 

He was back to that question again - why Madara of all people? If it was any other man, they could continue in secret, if Hashirama had to relieve certain _urges_ that a wife couldn’t satisfy. He wouldn’t be the first or the last who did so. People would overlook that, he was loved and honoured enough for it. But not if it was Uchiha Madara. He was too notorious for that. Such a romance couldn’t be kept even as a false secret.

 

What the hell was exactly between them? Hashirama called it a relationship, but how could that be? He was bewitched by that bastard, but his feelings obviously weren’t returned. Their not-so-long-ago enemy was cold, insane and didn’t care for anyone who wasn’t his blood relative.

 

It was obvious that Tobirama had to do something. Not just for the sake of the village, but for the sake of his brother as well.

****

_**TBC…** _

__


	4. Irresistible

*/*/*

 

 

“... with the Uzumaki clan. While I see why he thinks it’s a good idea, I’m really not sure of what I should do. So…what do _you_ think about it?”

 

Dark, soulful eyes looked at him with badly veiled hope. Hope for what, Madara couldn’t tell. Did Hashirama expect him to nod and say it was what he had to do? Or to the contrary, beg him not to marry the unknown woman? He was angry with him for his expectations - whichever it may be - but with himself as well for caring, for wanting to know what the other hoped to hear him say. He folded his arms in front of his chest and turned his face away slightly, letting his hair cover it from the disturbing stare.

 

“And this concerns me why...?”

 

“But Madara! We’re lovers now for over a year...”

 

“Tsch...”

 

“...and you know how important you’re to me,” the Senju pressed on, not letting him deny the obvious. “I don’t want to lose you because something like this!”

 

“To lose me? What makes to think you have me in the first place?”

 

The taller man stepped closer at that, so he held out his hand, stopping him with a palm on his chest before he could embrace him. He knew from experience that having the other too close would just waver his resolve. He was trying to catch his eyes, but the Uchiha looked steadily at a point above his shoulder.

 

“Madara,” Hashirama whispered, his deep voice sending pleasant shivers down his spine. It infuriated him, that he had this effect on his body. He was his only weakness.

 

“What do you want from me?” he snapped, “Your brother expects you to get married. You think you should do it. What do you need _my_ opinion for?”

 

“I want to know if _you_ also think I should do it.”

 

“But why does that matter?! I guess it’s inevitable. So if it’s this Uzumaki woman or anyone else, it doesn’t make a difference.”

 

“So you wouldn’t mind? Will we still continue...?”

 

“Continue _what?!_ ” he turned to face him fully in astonishment. Surely he was not suggesting...

 

“Continue as we are now,” the damn fool murmured. He was pulling him close and trying to kiss him, so Madara shoved him back as hard as he could.

 

“You must be kidding! It’s bad enough that I’ve become your dirty secret! I won’t be second to some bloody bitch!” He intended his reply to be dismissive, but it came out somehow wrong, making him sound hurting instead of uncaring. A small, hopeful smile appeared in the corners of Hashirama’s mouth and that irritated him just as much as the whole, absurd conversation. No, that wouldn’t do. This was his opportunity to put an end to their liaison, something he could never really get used to. It was dirty and wrong, still he let himself be dragged again and again into something sinfully, disdainfully pleasurable. But if this fool got married, he would be left alone and he could concentrate on the important things in life...

 

“So you care,” his bane of existence was whispering, looking ridiculously happy. He had such a stupid, naive smile, and Madara despised himself for finding it attractive. This had to stop; it shouldn’t have begun, ever. “Just say that you don’t want me to...”

 

“You’re getting it all wrong,” he cut him off on a cold voice. “I think you should get married. It is your duty after all, to your clan, _your_ village. I have nothing against it. To the contrary - it’s a good idea, maybe the only one your brother ever had. You obviously have too much energy, so I’m happy if you won’t be panting into my neck all the time.”

 

Predictably he pulled back at that, looking hurt. Madara steeled himself. He would finish it now. A quick slash to cut their bond. That would be way less painful that letting it be slowly torn apart as it was bound to happen otherwise.

 

“But Madara... you know I care for you! You’re my friend and more... I love you!”

 

He just stared at him for a long moment, his emotions fighting a mad battle inside him. Fury won. He squashed everything else, treacherous hope, dangerous tenderness, unacceptable caring - they were weaknesses, they had to go.

 

“How dare you,” he whispered, his voice shaking. “How dare you say something like that? I’m not some woman who you can fool with such words,” he closed up on him. Anyone else would have reeled back, but Hashirama of course stood his ground. “I let you have your fun with my body, but that’s all. I don’t care for your unnatural feelings...”

 

“Why are you like that?” the taller man was angry now as well, he could tell. He grabbed his shoulders forcefully and Madara had to quench an involuntary spark of desire he felt at his touch. “I know you care for me as well. Just admit it!”

 

“You’re an idiot,” he brushed his hand off and was disappointed when Hashirama let him do so. But it was stupid, so he was careful not to show it. “It’s time we get back to normal. It’s a wonder people didn’t start to gossip about us already. That we can’t afford. Go and get married. I have more important things to do than constantly waste my time on you.”

 

“I know you don’t really think that...”

 

“Oh, stop deluding yourself! I thought letting you fuck me might have some advantages, but I don’t see that I’d gain anything further from it. So don’t you dare to touch me again. You disgust me,” he could see he managed to wound the other man and he felt wickedly triumphant at that. Hashirama had always been the stronger one of them, and to deliver a blow, even in something as petty as breaking up with him, thrilled him. To chase him away would mean claiming victory over him. To prove to himself that at least in something like this he was the better.

 

“I don’t believe you,” the Senju whispered, but his doubt showed. Madara let his lips curl into an evil smirk. He wanted him to fall down on his knees and beg for one last kiss. He wanted him to attack, to force him to accept his touch. But no, what was he thinking? All he wanted was Hashirama to be out of his life.

 

“I don’t care a fuck what you believe. Get out of my house, get on with your life and leave me alone finally.”

 

He went. Madara’s euphoria over his unexpected victory lasted maybe ten minutes, before it suddenly turned to anger. So he could be chased away, just like that? That was all it took to make him run like a stray dog when it was kicked?

 

“I can see how much you love me,” he snarled to his empty room as he paced back and forth, trying to calm down. Something twisted painfully inside his chest and that feed his fury further. He wouldn’t allow himself to feel anything for that fool. Love indeed. How ridiculous...

 

Still, he couldn’t help but recall all their times together. He was disgusted with himself for it, but he enjoyed the other man’s touch, just as he enjoyed spending time with him. If he ever had a friend, it was Hashirama. But it was the damned Senju’s fault that they would lose that. If he didn’t press him to become more than just allies, friends maybe, this would have never happened. He had known he shouldn’t give in, but in the end he was unable to resist, and this is where it led them...

 

*/*/*

 

Steel clashed on steel as Hashirama parried his blow. Madara ducked quickly and jumped back to win some time. He couldn't tell for how long they had been fighting, but surely hours had passed. Their clothes stuck to them with perspiration and both of them were panting for breath. They agreed on ninjutsu only and that guaranteed a long and taxing time on the clearing they declared as the training fields. His friend was stronger, but he was more agile, so the chances where rather levelled. The sun had already started to set, but they were far from finished.

 

He rushed boldly ahead, leaving an opening on purpose, but Hashirama knew him too well to fall for the trick. His hair was plastered to his face with sweat, he was flushed bright red, but he was grinning. Madara couldn’t help but smile back. With such a taxing physical exercise all his bad thoughts, worries and regrets were gone. His mind was blissfully empty as he concentrated only on his and the other man’s movements. He felt happy.

 

Soon they were fighting in darkness, sensing where the other was more than seeing him in the dim starlight. The crescent moon didn’t illuminate the clearing much either, but it didn’t matter. He was familiar with Hashirama’s style to picture him, to know his next move.

 

He managed to cut him again, his blade running through linen and skin, drawing blood as it tore a wound from the taller man’s shoulder to the middle of his chest. It wasn’t deep, but it was the first sign of his opponent’s tiredness.

 

“I’ll win!” he cried triumphantly, just to realize a moment too late; he was closer to his opponent than he intended to be. But before he could put a safe distance between them a strong hand gripped his arm, twisting it up and back. He could have freed himself of that hold - damn if he knew why he didn’t.

 

“Not bad,” Hashirama’s breath was hot and humid in his ear, making him shiver. There was no reason for their clash to end there, but he didn’t move to disengage himself. Since their first kiss he couldn’t deny any more that he liked the other’s touch. He knew he shouldn’t - it was dangerous, wrong on oh so many levels, degrading - but right then, with both of their pulses running fast, with muscles trembling from hours of exertion, with him feeling blissfully free of thoughts and unreasonably elated, he just couldn’t bring himself to care.

 

He tipped his head back, while the other leaned forward, pulling him tightly against his chest. The position was awkward, but the kiss still excited him. Later he couldn’t even tell how they got back to his house. Thankfully the hour was late and the night dark, so no one saw them sneaking through the empty streets, between half-built houses.

 

Hashirama was on him the moment the door closed behind them and he met his passion with his own. Just this once, he told himself. Just once he would allow it to happen. He would make sure to put the right distance between them again later on. They were the founders of the quickly growing village after all and the leaders of their own clan, the two strongest shinobi living at the Land of Fire and maybe on the whole world as well. But for tonight he would forget that. This only time he’d not mind showing weakness with letting the other man close.

 

“I wanted you for so long,” Hashirama gasped when their lips parted, and though it was nothing new, it still sent a bolt of pleasure down his spine. He caressed his face, then wove his fingers into his hair and Madara leaned into the touch, craving more. “Ever since we were kids, I wanted to hold you like this.”

 

“I don’t need you to court me with something so stupid,” Madara snorted.

 

“But that’s the truth! Always, all these years...”

 

He interrupted him with a kiss, not wanting to hear the lies. Being with him right there was enough, so what would be the use of such talk?

 

Hashirama could be easily deterred, he seemed to forgot what he was talking about instantly when he pushed up his shirt and slid his palms up on his sides. He also grabbed the hem of Madara’s garment and downright tore off his already battered clothes. He returned the favour, wanting to see and touch his friend fervently. His body was different from his own, more tanned, muscles well developed, tempting, arousing. His skin was salty with sweat and blood and pleasantly warm, alive. The Uchiha run his tongue over the fresh wound on his chest and he hissed, fingers grasping his hair roughly and pulling his head up for another kiss.

 

Somehow they made their way to the futon and Madara felt the first pang of nervousness. He had no experience in this matter to speak of, while Hashirama’s touches were confident. Still, he masked his doubts. It wasn’t so different than a fight - he would just make sure to give as good as he got.

 

Still, just as so often in their clashes, Hashirama got the upper hand somehow. Very soon Madara found himself lying on his back with his friend kneeling between his wantonly spread thighs, placing biting kisses on his stomach, mouth sliding lower oh-so-slowly. It was due time to turn the tables, to take control - but instead he just moaned, hips bucking up from the mattress when those warm palms slid just where he wanted them, one cupping his ass, the other tugging carefully on his already hard cock.

 

As if it was happening to someone else, he let the other man play his body, his lips and fingers creating wonderful sensations where they touched him. When he was urged to turn around, he did so without complaint, resting his forehead on his folded arms and raising his backside high in the air, like a bitch in heat. He despised himself for it, but he even made small whimpers as Hashirama pushed into his body. His hands felt hot on his hips, strong and comforting, so he concentrated on that instead of the burning ache in his bottom. His friend stayed still once he was fully _in_. He seemed to be trembling slightly, from the effort to go slowly, maybe. Madara felt strangely full, which wasn’t a pleasant feeling, and a sharp bolt of pain bit into his lower back when his lover pulled out and thrust back gently, but still... still he bucked up for more, loving the sensation of being connected to this man, who, now that all his brothers died, were the closest to him of all people. Who meant more to him than anyone in his clan. The whole act should have been disdainful, but despite the soreness he didn’t want it to end, ever.

 

He wanted to get even closer to him and Hashirama, as if he was reading his mind, pulled him up until he was all but sitting in his lap, and he could rest his back against his chest. He was like a solid wall of rock he could lean against, protective with his strong arms around him. He whispered soft, stupid nonsenses so typical of him, that he was beautiful, precious and that he never wanted to let him go. Under normal circumstances Madara would have told him to shut up, that he wasn’t interested in such gibberish, but his mind wasn’t under his control more than his body was. So he just turned his head until he could lick and bite the other’s neck. The taller man moved against him and stroked his erection with increasing urgency and he let himself be carried away on waves of pleasure, gasping and moaning softly, his release rushing through his body suddenly and with an intensity he never experienced before.

 

He dropped back on all four, mind blissfully blank after his orgasm and his body so lax that he would have collapsed face first on the mattress if he wasn’t held up by forceful arms. Hashirama whispered something to him, but he couldn’t make out the words through the blood pounding loud in his ears. He caressed his back before grabbing his hips and pushing into him more deeply.  A couple of quick, hard thrusts and he reached his peak as well, groaning _Madara_ , fingers digging into him painfully. He slumped on his back and they fell forward, the taller man’s heavier bulk forcing the air out of his lungs...

 

*/*/*

 

With a jolt he came back to the present, realizing he was standing in the middle of his room as he stopped his pacing and was staring off into nothingness. His anger was gone, replaced by longing and sadness.

 

There was no use in recalling their first time together, and he didn’t understand himself why he did so. It hadn’t been a one-time thing as he promised himself - to the contrary, they regularly repeated it again and again for over a year. Still, after each and every time he tried to harden his determination as he knew he shouldn’t let it happen, to keep it happening. Now he got what he wanted. He finally managed to put an end to their illicit relationship. It was for the better. It had been a mistake to allow it to get to this point at all. Really, both of them needed to move on.

 

 

**_TBC…_ **

**_Art drawn by[粥七杏](http://www.baidu.com/p/%E7%B2%A5%E4%B8%83%E6%9D%8F?from=msg) and used with permission of the aritst. Thank you!_ **

 


	5. A Cup of Sake...Or Two...

 

He visited the place for a cup of sake and maybe a quick round of game. As the Hokage he was really expected to avoid such establishments, but right now he didn’t care what people might think. He desperately needed something to take his mind off from the conversation with Madara.

 

It wasn’t his intention to get drunk; he was just searching for that particular point when the alcohol turned his mood from shitty to sunny. He normally could hold his drink very well, it usually even had a good effect on him, making him cheerful and chatty. But that night it was just not happening. He soon gave up on cheerfulness, and just tried to dull himself to a degree where Madara’s words no longer hurt. But something was wrong with the sake here, because with each cup his heart just twisted more in pain.

 

He told the bartender so. The bald, elderly man blinked at him in concern and tried to take the bottle from him, but he tightened his grip on it. There was no need for others suffering from the thing as he did, he was ready to take it alone. He poured himself another shot.

 

“Hokage-sama, I think you had enough,” the guy whispered. Hashirama was touched by the concern in his voice, the alcohol making him sentimental. Though he was selling slop and calling it sake, he was a kind man, concerned for his well-being and reputation. Not that it was any use. He was at his senses enough to know the other guests in the pub were shooting him curious glances ever since he sat down. He probably contributed to the income of the place considerably, the way no one wanted to leave, waiting for him to... what? Vomit? Cry? Tell them they were all his family and vow to protect them with his dying breath? A few more cups and they might just get their show.

 

“Thank you my friend,” he tried and failed to keep his voice steady, slurring over the words slightly. “But I know when to stop, and it’s not now. Give me another bottle,” he poured the last drops out, “but one that’s better quality this time.”

 

“I really don’t think...”

 

“Now,” he ordered, and of course he got what he wanted. He _always_ got what he wanted from everybody, but the one person who mattered the most. Why it had to be like that? He just wanted to make him happy and be happy himself as well. How could he not care? How could he hurt him like that?

 

“And here I am, wallowing in self-pity,” he mumbled into his cup. The bald barkeeper blinked at him curiously, but he ignored him in favour of his booze. If he couldn’t get cheerfulness or blankness from the alcohol, he was ready to settle for feeling very-very sorry for himself. With each burning, stomach-turning slip it seemed like a better and better option.

 

He was just raising the cup to his lips, ready to swallow another gulp of the vile thing when a strong, calloused palm bore down on his wrist, stopping it in mid-motion. He stared at it, not wanting to raise his blurry glance to its owner.

 

“And here _you_ are, ruining my fun as always,” he slurred.

 

“If at least you were having fun,” Tobirama growled. “What the hell do you think you’re doing here?”

 

“Getting drunk.”

 

“I think you’ve accomplished that already.  Congratulations.”

 

“Not completely yet, brother, not completely yet. Here, sit down and have one yourself. The gods know, you could use it to relax...”

 

“You are absolutely sloshed,” he declared, ignoring the cup Hashirama raised to him. ‘I’ll take you home. You’ve done enough damage to your reputation already.”

 

“Do you think that scolding me publicly does anything good for my reputation?”

 

“Just pay for your bloody drinks and let’s get going.”

 

With a sigh, Hashirama started to pat through his pockets, searching for his money. He just knew Tobirama wouldn’t leave him alone, so there was no point in staying.

 

“There’s no need for that Hokage-sama, it’s a treat for you,” the kind bartender assured him when he wasn’t finding anything of value on him.

 

“No, it’s not!” his brother denied, putting down his own coins on the counter. Hashirama let himself be dragged up from the stool and ushered out the door.

 

All the sake inside him didn’t really agree with him suddenly standing up and even less with the way Tobirama was urging him to go more quickly. His brother was berating him for doing something so irresponsible and stupid, but he couldn’t really pay attention to it, as he had to focus on the ground under his feet which swayed dangerously with each step. He was very proud of himself to be able to get home. Though he felt dizzy, at least he didn’t had the capacity to think about Madara while they were on the road as walking required all his concentration.

 

Once back in his house he collapsed in a chair while Tobirama stood in front of him, hands on his hips, fuming with anger.

 

“Care to tell me why you did it?”

 

“I’m old enough to do whatever I want, father,” he grinned up at him, hoping it would irritate the younger man enough that he’d go away, but he didn’t get off the hook so easily. His brother sighed and pulled another chair close. He looked tired and sad, and Hashirama suddenly felt really bad for being such a burden to him again. It wasn’t his intention to hurt him, he just wished he would leave him alone, preferably with another bottle of alcohol.

 

“So? What’s this all about?” Tobirama asked with forced patience. Hashirama turned his face away, but still felt the reddish eyes drilling into him. So he just blurted out the truth, hoping it would make at least one of them feel a bit better.

 

“He... broke up with me.”

 

Silence followed that statement. He glanced back at his brother. His eyesight was rather blurry, and he couldn’t really read his expression, but he was surely not sympathetic.

 

“Oh...?”

 

“And it’s all your bloody fault!” he hadn’t even realized up till now how angry he was with Tobirama. “Your, and your absurd idea of me getting married!” He jumped to his feet, staggered and would have fallen if his brother hadn’t stood up and caught him. “Everything was perfect,” he mumbled into his shoulder, not finding strength to straighten up. “But I told him of your stupid plan, and he... and I...” Damn, but he felt like crying. He wondered if he could get away with crying, or would his little brother just drop him and tell him to get a grip, to be a man.

 

“That was bound to happen you know. What did you expect...?”

 

“But I love him!” There, he said it again. Tobirama tensed up and hold him out of arm’s length to look him in the face. He seemed about as happy hearing it as Madara had been.

 

“You’re drunk.”

 

“What does that have to do with how I feel? It hurts - here.” Dramatically he put a hand to his heart and now the tears came. He was glad for them, they eased the painful tension inside him. When Tobirama embraced him - stiffly and rather awkwardly, but it was still a hug - he pressed his face against the rough material of his robes, glad for the comfort his solid form offered. The gods knew, he hadn’t been held like this since he was eight, since their mother died.

 

“Are you quite finished?” his brother asked in less than a minute, when it had to be obvious that no, he wasn’t finished yet. Hashirama sighed but tried to get his emotions under control. He wished their mom was still alive - she would give him the soothing embrace he so desperately needed right now. Tobirama was just not good in this, he was too practical and had no clue how to deal with rampaging emotions.  “Go to sleep and tomorrow - it will be better I’m sure.”

 

He doubted that but still, lying down seemed like a good idea. The wooden floor of the room was swaying dangerously under his feet already. He didn’t bother with undressing, he just waddled over to his bed and fell into it. Tobirama followed him, looking unsure if he should leave him alone.

 

“I’ll be all right,” he assured him. “I’ll behave now, promise.”

 

To his surprise, the younger man sat down on the edge of the mattress and looked down at him with a grim expression. Hashirama hoped he didn’t have to listen to a speech about his responsibilities as the Hokage before he sobered up and didn’t feel like throwing up any more. Tobirama’s speeches were sometimes hard to stomach even when he was at his best. Even when he was right. Or especially then.

 

“Were you serious?”

 

“Hmm? About what?”

 

“That you... about how you feel for him.”

 

“Oh that,” probably he wanted to have this conversation even less. “Yeah...”

 

“Listen, brother,” Tobirama heroically tried to disguise his disgust, but didn’t quite manage. “I’ll try to...” The end of that sentence never came, but he still appreciated the sentiment behind it. Hashirama reached out and clasped his shoulder, suddenly overcome with gratitude.

 

“Thank you. I’m happy that you’re here - I couldn’t have managed all this without you.”

 

“Err… all right, let me go,” Tobirama looked uncomfortable - he was really bad with deep talks, but the older Senju felt he must convey his feelings.

 

“No, honestly. I’m very glad that you’re my brother, and that you care for me,” he sat up suddenly, wanting to pull the other man close, but the abrupt movement didn’t agree with the alcohol whirling inside him at all. So he never heard the answer as he had to double over the edge of his bed to avoid spoiling his sheets as he became violently sick. Tobirama sighed, pulled his hair out of his face and waited with him until the war in his stomach quieted down.

 

**_TBC…_ **


	6. The Worst Idea, Ever

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve finished writing this fic, so you can expect two chapters per week from now on, if I progress with the editing this well too. There’ll be 16 chapters total.

 

Tobirama didn’t get much sleep that night. He cleaned up the mess in his brother’s bedroom and waited a bit to see if he would throw up again - it really wouldn’t do for the first Hokage to suffocate in his sleep on his own filth. He wanted to be angry with the drunken fool, but he just felt tired and perplexed.

 

Even back in his own house he couldn’t rest. He’d never seen his brother in such a state before. So fallen apart, devastated... heartbroken. He was bound to have periods when he was depressed, but they were nothing like this. He was so strong, like an ancient tree with the strongest roots, a massive oak maybe, what could be torn by harsh winds, but couldn’t be bent or broken by even a raging storm.  There was no excuse to get so sloshed of course, especially not publicly, but... did that Uchiha bastard really meant so much to him?

 

It was all for the better, he told himself firmly, that Madara broke up with him. Their connection bode nothing but trouble. The soonest Hashirama could move on and forgot him, the best. There could be no objections from him now to get married. He would have a wife, soon he would have children to take care of, there was the village, his position with all his responsibilities- he wouldn’t have time to even think about his old lover. He might be feeling bad now, but that would pass. He knew him to be optimistic - and simple - enough not to dwell over his loss for long.

 

Yes, Madara did him a favour with finishing this outrageous romance. This way there was nothing Tobirama needed to do, other than to guide his brother in the right direction in his life. This shameful episode was better buried and forgotten as soon as possible.

 

So why, _why_ was he feeling this bad? It was so stupid to feel sorry for Hashirama, when his fate just changed for the better. He can’t possibly, really love Madara. He just had a too big heart and that _bitch_ took advantage of it. He’d, from now on, lead a normal life and forgot about him. He could learn to love his wife, or if that didn’t work out... he could have another lover, someone less dangerous and inappropriate. Preferably a woman. Definitely not an Uchiha.

 

By dawn-break he almost managed to convince himself that it was going to happen and would be for the best.

 

After a few hours rest he went in to the Hokage’s office to deal with anyone waiting for his brother. He didn’t expect him to show up after how sick he’d been the night before, so he was surprised to find him already there, looking rather worn out with the dark circles under his eyes and the greyish tone of his tanned skin, but working. He smiled tiredly at him and waved for him to wait, so Tobirama sat down and watched him like a hawk.

 

He looked normal for someone who drank gods-know how much sake, cried heartbrokenly and thrown up just a couple of hours before, but then, he was strong and knew how to hold himself up. He didn’t look as devastated as he did before they parted. He actually seemed peaceful as he was talking to the men giving him their report. Had he already started to see reason...?

 

When they were left alone he took his usual spot, at the top of the massive desk. Dark eyes returned his scrutinizing glance calmly or maybe even cheerfully.

 

“I take you’re feeling better?” he asked gruffly.

 

“A lot better. I’m very sorry for last night. I know it was over the top - I’ve really overdramatized the whole issue. I seem to remember that I err... been sick, but this morning I couldn’t...”

 

“I cleaned it up. Obviously.”

 

“Ah, thank you for that as well then. I’ll return the favour whenever you feel like getting drunk and crying on my shoulder.” He grinned at Tobirama. He seemed a bit _too_ cheerful.

 

“I’d rather if you just not do it again. Ever again.”

 

“I’ll try to.”

 

“So about _why_ you were like that...”

 

“Ah yes... I don’t know why I’ve blown it up like that. But today I remembered something and that helped me to set up the correct... perspective of things, so to say. So. I think I’ll be all right now. I figured out what should I do.”

 

“Good.”

 

“Yes.”

 

He waited for the other shoe to drop, but his brother just looked at him with unwavering peacefulness. Tobirama took a deep breath and charged ahead.

  
“So I guess you’ll be visiting Uzushiogakure very soon now? I see no reason to delay your marriage further. I guess you have no objection against the bride I’ve chosen for you?”

 

“Err...”

 

“Her father is said to know the trickiest bonding jutsus and...”

 

“I think you’ve got it wrong, Tobirama.”

 

He slammed his fist down on the table. Hashirama didn’t even bat an eye, which infuriated him further. Leaning in close he snarled into his face;

 

“So tell me brother, what am I getting wrong. What is it that you decided to do?”

 

“I’m not getting married. There’s a limit to which I’m willing to sacrifice my personal feelings and it’s over that. I know you only have good intentions and I’ve been confused, thinking it’s something I must do, but…but now everything have fallen to its place. I now know what is the only right thing to do. I choose Madara.”

 

He said it in such a matter of fact way, that the younger man could do nothing more than gape at him in astonishment for a long minute. His brother, when he wanted to, could radiate authority and power like no one else he knew. Times like this, even he found it hard to object to his will. He was a natural leader, and Tobirama, though he always considered himself to be the smarter and more level-headed of the two of them, could do nothing but follow his command, even if he _knew_ it was the most dangerous and idiotic plan, ever.

 

It had happened before, situations when he was sure that he was going to lead them into trouble, but was still unable to say no. Like that time in their childhood when he convinced him that they should steal their dad’s katana to practice with it, though both were aware of the sound beating they would receive for it – and indeed, they had. Or much later, when he agreed to make peace with the Uchihas, not that they needed them as their allies or wasn’t powerful enough without them. So he was sure, the worse was just to come.

 

“Choose him? So you’d rather keep your... _thing_ with him secret forever then have a wife and...?”

 

“That wouldn’t be fair, would it? I think that’s why he got so angry... But that’s the good part - I found the solution!”

 

“Do I even want to know what it is?”

 

“I’m not going to keep it a secret at all! After all, I’m not ashamed of him the least. We’re going to be together – and I don’t care if people will know about it. To the contrary – I want it to be publicly known, so it can be clear to everyone what he means to me. I can even make an official announcement if necessary.”

 

This was... this was worse than he ever imagined, a true nightmare. Hashirama wasn’t looking at him any longer, but rather through him, obviously happy in his own, bloody delusional dream world. Tobirama had to clear his throat a couple of times to find his voice.

 

“Have you lost your fucking mind?” he croaked at last.

 

“Now, now, I knew you’re going to say that, but no, I haven’t. I’ve thought things through. This village we planned together with Madara ages ago. If someone doesn’t want our protection because of such a trifle thing as our _connection_ , then - they can go.”

 

“Brother! Don’t you see what this would do to your reputation?!”

 

“Honestly? I don’t care,” he smiled indulgently, and had the audacity to reach out and pat him on the shoulder. “I know you’re worried for me, and I appreciate your concern, but believe me; this is the best I can do. The right thing to do is to listen to my heart.”

 

“Listen to your heart?! You should use your brain instead!”

 

“Don’t shout please...” wincing, he reached to his temples. That he was suffering from hangover wasn’t a gratification that could compensate Tobirama for this maddens.  

 

“I don’t believe it!” he jumped to his feet, too furious to be still any longer. “How could he convince you of such an idiotic idea? What does he think he can achieve with...”

 

“Well, I haven’t talked about this with him yet.”

 

That took him by surprise. On one hand it was even worse if his brother came up with the idea alone and not on Madara’s influence. On the bright side, there was the hope that the Uchiha would find it just as nonsense as he did. He had to make sure he wouldn’t agree to it.

 

“I’ll come back later to talk about this,” he promised. “I just need to cool off a bit first.”

 

He left his brother alone and went straight to Madara’s house. He realized for the first time how close it was to Hashirama’s, and that angered him further. If it was ever going to be up to him, he would make sure to move the whole cursed, Sharingan-user bunch to the outskirts of the village where they could do less harm for normal people.

 

 

**_TBC…_ **

 


	7. An Important Realization

*/*/*

Though he was still a bit nauseous after last night’s escapade with the sake, Hashirama was in an exceptionally cheerful mood. Of course his day didn’t started good at all when he woke up at dawn, sober and very depressed. No, lying in his bed he’d felt that his life couldn’t get any worse. Madara told him quite clearly he didn’t want anything from him ever again. To make it worse, he’d caused a lot of trouble for his brother as well. The previous night’s happenings were rather blurry in his mind, but he could recall enough to know; he’d made a fool of himself.

 

Poor Tobirama - he’d always wanted to protect him, despite the fact that he was the younger and less powerful of them. But he was dutiful by nature, while Hashirama was bound to follow his ideas and dreams more freely. No wonder he didn’t understand what was going on between him and Madara...

 

He felt a pang of pain in his heart, thinking about his lover. The thought of never touching him again, never being close to him, _inside_ him again was unbearable. He wanted nothing more than to hold him tight and never let him go. But that was impossible - not just because their society didn’t allow it, Madara also made it clear that his feelings weren’t returned. How was the saying? To love is to let go. He had to be a good enough man to give space for his old friend if that was what he wanted. He, after all, couldn’t force himself on him...

 

Still it bugged him. They had been lovers for over a year. Was it possible that Madara never felt anything tender for him throughout that time? There were those small signs that suggested otherwise, but in general he had always been rather dismissive...

 

He was drifting back into sleep again, feeling forlorn, lonely and rather ashamed of himself. He had believed that things finally started to head at the right direction. How could it come to this? The last night together had been so perfect – he couldn’t believe it really had been the last one. Would he acted differently if he knew…?

 

*/*/*

 

“...so not what I expected, but...eh, I guess it’s all right.”

 

“Good then. It’s really important for your clan to accept as well.”

 

Madara shrugged, his shoulders moving pleasantly against him, rubbing bare skin against bare skin. He was lying on his side, leaning back against Hashirama’s chest. The way he let him support his weight filled the taller man with satisfaction. It was so rare that Madara wasn’t out of the bed instantly after sex, getting dressed and pretending nothing happened. It was even more surprising that he was so relaxed, letting himself be cuddled close and talking. Hashirama didn’t know what brought the change, but was immensely pleased about it.

 

They were quiet for a while. Hashirama propped up on one of his elbows, watching the other avidly, his palm caressing his lover’s taut stomach and sharp hipbone lazily. Madara pillowed his head on his arm and let him do as he pleased. His eyes were heavily lidded, staring off into nothing, his frame relaxed. He seemed content, something he rarely did.

 

“You know,” the Senju picked up the conversation after a while “I still think you would have made a better Hokage than I’ll ever be.”

 

Madara tensed under his touch, and he cursed himself for spoiling the mood. He let out a breath when in a minute his lover relaxed again. Sighing, he turned his head to look up at him.

 

“A pity that no one shares your confidence in me.”

 

“I...” he fell silent, trying to regroup his thoughts. There were so many things he wanted to say; that how highly he thought of him, that the others were fools, that something somewhere went wrong, but he would fix it, so Madara could receive the recognition he deserved.

 

“You don’t have to answer that,” his friend let him off the hook. “I have other aims anyhow, so it doesn’t really matter.”

 

“What other aims?” he questioned, running light fingers down on his side, then spreading them on his thigh.

 

“Hmm… you don’t need to know. You’ll see soon enough,” he had a cruel little smile in the corners of his mouth as he said it, igniting a spark equally made of warning and desire in the Senju.

 

“That sounds foreboding,” he leaned over Madara completely to whisper in his ear. “Should I be worried?”

 

“You, at least, should always be on your guard,” he pushed back against him, sighing contently when Hashirama kissed his neck. He was like a big, sleek cat; lazy, lithe, undeniably dangerous even when relaxed like this. A true predator, never to be tamed.

 

“I’m always on my guard,” Hashirama mumbled, pressing his nose into the amazing crown of thick, unruly black hair, inhaling his lover’s scent deeply. He felt the first stirrings of arousal in his groin, despite his recent orgasm.

 

“Are you sniffling me?”

 

“You smell good,” he placed a kiss at the top of his head, but didn’t remove his nose from his hair. Madara muttered something, but didn’t pull away. To the contrary, he edged back, to lie flush against his front. He looked back over his shoulder when he felt Hashirama’s rapidly awakening hardness against his backside.

 

“Again already? Is that even normal?”

 

“What can I say? You drive me mad.”

 

“So you’re a pervert and try to blame it on me,” still, he didn’t object as the taller man caressed his buttocks, rubbing his fingers against his hole. No, he actually made a pleased sigh and pulled his leg up, opening himself. Chuckling, Hashirama slid lower, kissing down the bumps of his spine then the inside of his thigh, the curve of his ass and finally pushing his tongue between the cheeks and _inside_. Madara was already slick with oil and his semen there from their previous lovemaking, so it slid in easily. His fingers joined as well while his lover gasped and trembled.

 

“Wait... what are you... oh...” he moaned and obviously forgot his thread of objection. Hashirama grinned as much as he could given what he was doing. He just loved when he managed to take Madara by surprise with his actions, even more so if he could cause him pleasure along the way. His slender fingers grasped the sheets and soon enough he was moving back against him, silently demanding more.

 

Hashirama smiled with satisfaction as he shifted to lay fully behind Madara, holding up his leg as he penetrated him. Though the Uchiha must have been sore, he didn’t show his discomfort.

 

“You’re just as a pervert than I am, for liking what I do,” he chuckled as he started to move slowly.

 

“I’m not and I don’t!” That was just ridiculous of course with the way he was arching his back and reaching up to entwine his fingers in his hair.

 

“The best is if I stop then,” Hashirama made sure to keep his voice even as he pulled back and out.

 

“Just what do you think you’re doing?!”

 

“Finishing this alone,” he replied calmly, taking his cock in hand a stroking it lazily. “As you so clearly don’t want to continue...”

 

“You bastard!”

 

He grabbed Madara’s arm when he wanted to get up and held him back. Laughing, he pushed him on his back and rolled on top.

 

“Don’t try to drag me down to your deranged level!” The black haired fiend under him was making such a sullen face that he could have believed him if he wasn’t flushed and erect. He kissed him, tenderly at first, but it soon got passionate as it was returned.

 

“There’s nothing wrong in this,” he tried to assure him when their lips parted, but he turned his face away. “Why can’t you just accept what’s between us? I want you and you want me - it’s all right.”

 

“You are such a naive fool.”

 

“Madara, I know... I know it’s difficult, but...”

 

“Can we just fuck? I’m not interested in this.”

 

He sank into his body again, pushing the slender, muscled thighs back, to make his lover accept his cock as deeply as possible. He moved slowly and watched the pale face carefully, to see when tension was replaced by lust. He knew all the signs by now, the way he closed his eyes and bit his lips, the way he tipped his head back, showing his neck - a vulnerable spot. He leaned in then, folding the other man almost in two, to whisper against his lips.

 

“You can deny it all that you want - I’ll still know you feel for me.”

 

Heavy-lidded, black eyes snapped open at that, glaring at him despite the evident desire that clouded them. He didn’t let him reply, but kissed him again instead, speeding up his thrusts and the Uchiha let himself be caught up in passion. It didn’t take much for either of them to find their release for the second time that night.

 

“Why do you insist on talking about our feelings?” Madara asked afterwards, when their breathing and pulse already returned to normal. Though they were both sticky with sweat and semen, neither moved to get up and wash themselves. Hashirama was actually drifting off to sleep, with the very pleasant weight of his lover’s head on his chest.

 

“Because they are there. Why not to talk about them.”

 

“You know how inappropriate they are.”

 

“So _fucking_ without emotions would be more appropriate?”

 

“Don’t twist my words!” Madara snapped. He raised his head, but thought better of it and lay back.

 

“What are you afraid of? That people might get to know?”

 

“Obviously I don’t want anyone to know, but...”

 

“But?”

 

No reply came, and he left it like that, too sated to put effort into the argument. It was much later, when he was actually sure the Uchiha had fallen asleep when he heard him whisper;

 

“I’ll just lose you as well.”

 

*/*/*

 

Suddenly finding the strength to ignore his hangover, Hashirama sat up in his bed. He’d been on the verge of sleep when his lover had said that, and didn’t really think about it afterwards, but now he suddenly understood the meaning behind those quiet words.

 

What else could be the fear of the dreaded Uchiha Madara, who had lost everyone from his close family, lost the battle against the Senjus, lost the chance to be the leader of their village, than to lose someone important to him again? He loved his brothers, he clung to Izuna, vowed to protect him, but he still couldn’t prevent his death. Hashirama knew very well that letting yourself care for someone meant that you’d be hurt if you lose them. It was so obvious that Madara was cold with him because if he admitted, even if only to himself, that he had feelings for the Senju, then if he died or was just not with him anymore, that would be painful. So to protect himself he pulled up that emotional barrier. Still, it was slowly crumbling, he was opening himself up, if even just a tiny bit, every day.

 

Then Hashirama went and talked about a political marriage, which must have just confirmed his fears. So he kicked him out, before it could be done to him.

 

“Do you love me as well?” he asked out loud, but he received no reply from his empty room.

 

But still, despite his pounding headache, his mood cheered up considerably. Obviously he wouldn’t be marrying Uzumaki Mito, or anyone else after this revelation. He might have done a bit of a damage in what was building oh-so-slowly between them, but on the long term he could fix it. He just need to show Madara that he wouldn’t be disappearing from his life, that he wanted him by his side for now and for ever.

 

Now that he could see so clearly what to do, he was suddenly full of energy. It wouldn’t do to neglect his duties, so he decided to go through his day before visiting his friend and explaining his intentions to him.

 

He was happy when Tobirama showed up, partly so that he could apologize for the previous night - something he was really ashamed of. But also that he could share his realization - he just couldn’t hold it in himself, and if he was really to acknowledge his relationship with Madara publicly, his brother had to be the first to know. He was, after all, his only family.

 

Of course, the younger Senju wasn’t pleased with his decision, but he was expecting that. Still, he was sure he would accept it; he just needed to calm down, to cool off a bit, as he put it. For a moment he was overtaken with a heavy, foreboding feeling as he looked after the white-haired man’s retreating back, but he chased it away, convincing himself that they were through the hardest part, and everything would work out well now.

 

****

**_TBC…_ **

****__  
  



	8. An Unwelcome Guest

*/*/*

 

That night Madara was haunted by the worst nightmares. He dreamt of Izuna, something that was always bittersweet. Years after his death he still felt desperation over his own incapability to keep his little brother alive. But even so, he was usually happy to see him in his sleep, even if it was not for real. But this time it wasn’t one of those dreams that caused him any joy.

 

No, he’d been holding a battered, broken, dying Izuna in his arms and begging him to stay with him. His own fingers were bloody; they left dark red stains on the boy’s pale-as-death face as he smoothed out his sweaty locks. He was taking ragged breaths, staring somewhere ahead, seemingly unaware of Madara’s presence. He crouched over him, to catch his glance, but when he managed to, he found it didn’t hold any of its usual tenderness, admiration at all, rather it was bitter with accusation.

 

“Why did you let me die, brother?” he croaked.

 

Madara had to blink away his sudden urge to cry. When his vision cleared, he was holding only a cold body in his arms. Two empty eye sockets glared at him. A drip of blood rolled down from their corners like cruel imitation of tears...

 

Then the scene shifted, at it wasn’t even Izuna in front of him any longer, but Hashirama. The dark garments he wore under his armour stuck to his chest and stomach with the rapidly spreading pool of his own blood. He was holding a kunai in his slackening grip, and Madara didn’t have to look to know; he cut his own stomach open.

 

“I’ll die just as you wanted me to,” he whispered. “Do you believe now that I love you?”

 

He jerked awake at that point. Sitting in his bed, covered in cold sweat he felt more fatigued and worse-for-wear than before lying down. Despite the ungodly hour and his pounding headache he got up. Anything was better than to fall asleep and dream again.

 

One look at his face and all of his clan members were smart enough to clear from his way. Deciding to skip his usual morning exercises, he sat down in the garden with a cup of tea, to stare into the shallow pond and try to think about nothing. Not that it worked - his mind kept playing tricks with him, turning the water blood red or creating phantom images of his dead brothers and his lover. His ex-lover.

 

Still, slowly it was getting better. He was determined to stay there until he reclaimed his inner peace, even if it took him hours. Even if it took him a damned week.

 

So he was unspeakably annoyed when loud voices interrupted his meditation. Two people were arguing nearby. Who on earth could be such a fool to dare to interrupt...?

 

“...I’m really sorry, but Madara-sama can’t be disturbed. I’ll let him know that you...”

 

“Get out of my way! I have to talk to him.”

 

“This is not a suitable time to...”

 

“It’s _urgent!”_

 

He stared in astonishment at the man who stormed out into his garden, shattering his so hardy created aura of peace with his presence in an instant. The Uchiha behind him - who was supposed to act as his bodyguard, not the he had any use of him, ever - was bowing so low that his forehead almost touched the ground, begging for his forgiveness for the disturbance. He dismissed him with a wave of his hand - he’d deal with him later.

 

He rose up slowly as Senju Tobirama strode over where he was sitting.

 

“What the hell could _you_ want?!”

 

“We need to talk - privately.”

 

“I’ve nothing to discuss with you,” he was never happy to see the albino, but right now, after what happened between him and his brother the previous day, after that he just dreamt of Izuna, whom death he was responsible for, he felt downright nauseated to be in his presence.

 

“I think you do. About what you and Hashirama are up to.”

 

“I’m not _up to_ anything with him!” he hissed, keeping his voice low.

 

“Funny, he seems to think you are.”

 

“Leave. I won’t...”

 

“If we don’t go inside, I’ll just say what I want out here, where anyone can overhear...”

 

“I don’t know what you mean, but if it’s something you think would discriminate him as well, you wouldn’t...”

 

“It won’t matter much, if he puts through what he plans.”

 

“What he plans...?”

 

“Inside.”

 

What could he do? He led him in, silently promising him the most painful death possible for making him obey. But he had no choice - the more they argued in the garden the more ground it made for rumours and speculations. He was sure his household was watching them unobtrusively.

 

“So?” he asked once the door of his room was securely closed behind them.

 

Tobirama raked his fingers through his hair, looking unsure for pretty much the first time ever since he had the misfortune of knowing him. He also seemed rather tired, with dark circles under his reddish eyes. He glanced sideways then back at him.

 

“I know about your... _romance_ with my brother,” he started, then fall silent. The Uchiha gaped at him in astonishment.

 

“That bloody idiot...”

 

“Don’t you dare to talk about him like that!”

 

“He told you...”

 

“He didn’t have to! It was rather obvious.”

 

They glared at each other, silent for a few heartbeats. Madara tried to guess what he came for. To blame him? Probably.

 

“You’ve no reason to be here. It’s over now,” he stated as blankly as he could.

 

“Do you know him at all?! He won’t let it... won’t let you go!”

 

“I’m certainly not his possession!” his lips curled up into a snarl. “He can’t decide whether...”

 

“He wants it to be publicly known!”

 

“What do you mean?” he blinked, his anger replaced for a moment with confusion.

 

“That you and him... that you...” he made a vague motion with his hand and Madara suddenly understood.

 

“If this is a joke, Senju...” he whispered, his headache returning with vengeance.

 

“It’s a tragedy, not a joke! He completely lost his mind. He was devastated last night, got the worst kind of drunk and by morning he came up with this insane idea. Go and talk him out of it.”

 

“You don’t get to tell me what to do!” he snapped. “He won’t do it, as I’ll never agree to it.”

 

“This is all your fault,” the white haired man stepped closer in anger, pointing an accusing finger at him. “So you have to solve it. I won’t have my brother ruining all that he fought so hard for because of you!”

 

“How is it my fault that he lost what little sanity he ever possessed?”

 

“Is that even a question? It’s your fault for seducing him! Now he thinks he has to be _faithful_ to you...!”

 

“ _Seducing_ him? The whole thing was his idea in the first place! I’ve no responsibility in this.”

 

“How can you even say that? You, who have a responsibility in _everything_ he does!”

 

“It’s not my doing that your brother is a fool,” he said dismissively. “My only responsibility is that I didn’t let him kill himself that day...”

 

Tobirama moved as if he wanted to hit him. Madara’s muscles tensed - he was ready for a fight himself. Still, they were in his own house - not a place for the clash that was long due between them. He also couldn’t help but think that Hashirama wouldn’t be able to forgive him if he killed his brother - and though that shouldn’t have mattered, it held his hand back. After a tense moment of glaring at each other, the air vibrating between them with the gathering chakra for the first blow, Tobirama won his self-control back and stepped away.

 

“You are a cold bastard. Even if you don’t feel for him like he does for you, how can you hurt him like that? Anyone else would be glad to be...”

 

“Hold it, Senju,” he raised his hand, stopping the other in mid-rant. “Are you now saying that I shouldn’t have sent him away? Would you prefer if I told him not to marry that Uzumaki woman you’ve chosen for him? That he should stay with me, and only me, forever?” He said it emotionlessly, cruelly just as he intended, though there, at the last part, he couldn’t quite manage to keep the longing out of his voice, but he was sure Tobirama didn’t notice. He looked confused for a moment before his fury once again burst forward.

 

“That’s not what I meant at all! You shouldn’t have begun it, at all.”

 

“What’s done is done. It’s now over. He’ll...he’ll move on,” he didn’t know why he added that last sentence. He wanted the white haired bastard out of his house and thought that maybe if he reassured him... but it came out bitter or desperate even. Reddish eyes narrowed thoughtfully. Hashirama had always said that his brother was a too keen observer for his own good. Looked like he was right.

 

“What do you actually feel for him?”

 

“What does it matter to you Senju?” he asked listlessly. He felt tired. Why was he having this conversation, this argument at all? Hadn’t he decided already what he should do? That the only thing he wanted from Hashirama was their rivalry? That he was only important as no one else could match his own might and... and Madara could measure his strength only against his? He’d leave this miserable village soon, leave it with all its hypocrite, ungrateful inhabitants. “The only thing that should be important to you is that I don’t want anything from him any longer. You can be relieved; he’s free of my _clutch.”_

 

“You’re really a pathetic fool, aren’t you?” Madara’s head snapped up at that, his fury returning with vengeance. “Yes, you are right - I don’t care why you did it, I’m happy you’re out of his life. My brother can now live a full life, as you won’t be there to drag him back.”

 

He turned sharply on his heels and left, and the Uchiha didn’t try to stop him. He’d have plenty opportunities to take vengeance on him for his words later. This time he was just glad to be rid of him. Soon enough they shall meet as enemies - he wouldn’t show any mercy then. He tried to get the white-haired bastard out of his mind, but that only resulted in his thoughts turning to his brother.

 

Going public indeed - what a nonsense idea. What the hell was wrong with Hashirama? He was at the highest position - his fall into disgrace would be the most painful. To come up with something so dangerously stupid - no wonder Tobirama was so aggravated. Though he didn’t quite understand the reason behind his visit - if he only told him to stay away, but no, he was angered by his _emotions,_ or lack of them...

 

The damned fools, the both of them. He wouldn’t waste his time on trying to make sense of the Senju way of thinking.

 

He paced restlessly for a while, trying - and failing - to find his inner peace. This just wouldn’t do. He felt as if the walls were closing on in him. He needed to go out, but in the garden too many watchful eyes followed everything he did. He needed space and calmness. He just knew the perfect spot for it, though the view brought him controversial feelings since the village had started to build. Still, from the moment they’d discovered it a decade ago, he’d never found a better place to meditate than at the top of the hill overlooking the valley.

**_TBC…_ **


	9. No Looking Back

 

“You’re smiling again, brother. What are you thinking about?”

 

“What? Nothing! And I haven’t been smiling!” Madara denied, though he obviously couldn’t fool Izuna, who was lying on his stomach, looking up at him with bright, dark eyes. Actually, he had been thinking about Hashirama - that at their last meeting he managed to beat him in taijutsu (though he had the creeping suspicion the other boy didn’t put all his might into his blows) and afterwards how they dashed to their favourite spot to talk about the shinobi village they would found together. Though Madara knew it was a naive dream, he still couldn’t help but desperately hope they would somehow make it come true. His friend never seemed to be tortured by doubts and fears as he was. He was a bit envious of that...

 

“But you were! You are smiling a lot more recently.”

 

“Err, am I? I think I just...”

 

“I asked father about it, you know,” Izuna chimed in happily, unaware that his words made his brother's stomach twist in pure, cold fright. “And he said it might be a girl.”

 

“A girl?” he made a face of disgust, unspeakably relieved that no mentions of his friend was made. “I don’t even like girls!”

 

“That’s what I told him as well, but he said that you’re at _that_ age... and that I’ll understand it in a few years. Oh and also that I shouldn’t follow you around if you want some time alone,” the corners of his mouth turned downwards sulkily. “Will I see you less because of some stupid girl now, brother?”

 

He looked so adorable that Madara had to crouch down and mess his hair. He felt relieved - if his family thought he was having some silly secret rendezvous, he could sneak away to meet with the other boy more often maybe. Though he knew there was nothing wrong in it - Hashirama never wanted to cause him any harm - people were suspicious. He wouldn’t be allowed to meet with a stranger, someone whose last name he didn’t even know, if it ever came to his dad’s knowledge, he was sure of it.

 

“I won’t neglect you, I promise. You’re my little brother after all.” The only one left, he didn’t add, not wanting to sadden the boy. Izuna sat up with a bright smile to tug on his sleeve.  

 

“So you will practice with me today?” he asked excitedly. Madara couldn’t deny him, he never could, so he went along, though his mind was more on his friend than on shurikens and fireballs. He couldn’t pinpoint when Hashirama started to mean so much to him. He never really had friends before, certainly not someone who wasn’t an Uchiha. But even from his own clan, he could bond only with his brothers truly. He knew he was risking a lot with letting a stranger so close. Any day, they could meet on a battlefield... or simply the other might not show up from one day on, and Madara would be left in doubt whether he lived or died forever.

 

It would be safer and less painful if he put an end to their meetings, but he could never make up his mind to do so. He was really happy and carefree only at the times when he and Hashirama were together. The other boy had the mysterious ability to make him forget his problems, all murders he had seen and committed. Though he lived the painful life of a shinobi as well, his optimism somehow always managed to win. He seemed innocent, something Madara didn’t think himself to be for years, though he must have been responsible for the death of many people himself. He was strong, stronger than the Uchiha boy, who was considered to be a prodigy in their clan, so surely he was forced out on the battlefields as well, to fight the adults’ fights. How he still managed to believe the world could be made a better place, how did he manage to be cheerful and friendly was incomprehensible. But when he was in his company, Madara felt his power and optimism as if it was his own, and that drew him in like candle flame a moth.

 

When they were apart, the doubts came of course - that it was somehow wrong or dangerous that they were meeting secretly. But when he was with him, he never even thought of voicing his concerns, never told him they should stop and never see each other again.

 

So hell, if his dad thought he was smiling more because he was seeing some girl, so be it. He’d tell Hashirama next time and share a laugh on it together. His friend had such a stupid, open laugh that always made him join along. He always managed to make Madara do stuff he wouldn’t have done on his own, like sneaking away from home, lying to his brother and father, practice taijutsu in the middle of the forest, laugh out loudly...

 

*/*/*

 

Madara cut off that line of thought. There was no use in reminiscing about the past. They have built the village in the end, but at what cost? He’d changed so much and lost everyone important to him. There was Hashirama still, but he... he didn’t count. He wasn’t family, he was just an enemy he made temporary peace with.

 

He looked down at Konoha. The night was falling rapidly, lights blinked up from more and more windows. He spent the most of his day out on the high plateau, above the rocks where the Hokage’s head was being carved into the hillside.

 

He was meant to strengthen his resolve and finally decide for good that he would leave the damned place, but instead he was daydreaming about the only time in his life he was truly content. How pathetic. He was angry with himself, but angry with Hashirama as well. He always managed to fool him with his lies of happiness - back in their childhood just as well as recently, when they had become lovers. At the first time it had ended ugly - it was just fitting this time would be even uglier. The bond that was still between them kept him back only, so he had to cut it. He’d needed no such restrictions.

 

Why would he stay? That fool would just marry the woman his cursed brother picked for him, he was sure. He can say his big words, but in the end of the day he always did what was expected of him, like becoming the leader of the village. Like in all honestly, becoming the leader of even the Uchiha clan, the way they favoured him over Madara. This wasn’t his home at all. No, if he was a right place anywhere, it was in battle. That was what he knew, what he excelled in - fighting. He had no one to protect any more, he didn’t believe in peace, so it was due time for sharpening his weapons again.

 

He stood up and stretched. A small voice in the back of his head was whispering that he was just running away, afraid that Hashirama wouldn’t chose him, would forget him or maybe that it would turn out that he never thought Madara as important as he was for the Uchiha. That Tobirama was right, and he didn’t deserve him.

 

He shook his head in a vain attempt to clear it. What an utter shit. He was really going soft in this so-called peace. That wouldn’t do. He was born to fight, so damn it all to hell, he would fight. Tomorrow he would call Hashirama aside and tell him he was leaving, that they were to be foes once again.

 

He took a deep breath, and despite the now almost complete darkness, rushed down the cliff, jumping on the top of the stone head.

 

“Back to what we were made for,” he told it. “That’s how it should be. Tomorrow, you’ll get to know it as well. I’m sure you’ll be dumbstruck. You can be so clueless at times.”

 

He walked back to his house at a leisurely pace, feeling more in peace with himself now that he made his decision. As their illicit little relationship ended, there was nothing to keep him back. He never really understood himself, why he went along with it at all. It was Hashirama’s thing, probably some twisted attempt to dominate him. ‘Wanted him since the day they’ve met’ and ‘go public’ indeed. He was playing a game, and he wasn’t even doing it convincingly.

 

He wasn’t prepared to sense his presence in his home. He felt it even though he was not concentrating on chakra. His confident steps faltered but he didn’t stop. This was his house, his own home, if even only for one last night. He wouldn’t be put to rout. So if he came to him, he’d finish it this night.

 

“Ah, Madara-sama,” one of his men rushed to greet him. “You have a visitor. Hokage-sama has been waiting for you for hours, but we didn’t know where you were... Do you want us to prepare dinner for the two of you?”

 

“There’s no need for that,” he said dismissively. These watchful eyes were driving him mad.

 

“Did you really have to come here?” he snapped as he closed his door behind him, though just a moment ago he decided he would remain cool and collected. Hashirama stepped closer to greet him, his smile unwavering. “I don’t want my household to start to _talk.”_

 

“You could live on your own, as I do. Or maybe...”

 

“Well, _I_ don’t have any brothers alive who would bring me food and do other stuff you’re incapable of...” he sidestepped the other’s outstretched arms and went to stand in front of the window.

 

“That’s not fair! I don’t make Tobirama do anything!”

 

“You’ve just confessed the other day that he is washing your clothes!”

 

“I’ve just said he _might be_ the one who takes them away to be washed, as they always miraculously reappear clean and folded after I wore them.”

 

His lips twitched up into an involuntary smile before he caught himself and disguised it behind his hand. This conversation wasn’t going in a direction he planned. After all this talk about clothes he couldn’t help but notice how Hashirama wasn’t wearing those ridiculous Hokage garbs that fitted him so badly, but a shirt that showed his wide shoulders, strong arms and narrow hips... His glance lingered for a moment before he angrily narrowed his eyes and looked up at the other’s face. The bloody fool was still smiling.

 

“Anyhow, now that you are here, we need to talk.”

 

“Yes! That’s why I’m here for! I’ve thought things through and came to a decision...”

 

“I know,” Madara hold up his hand. “Your brother, who, I’m now sure, is washing your clothes so they won’t smell like me, was here to warn me...”

 

“Tobirama was here?” Hashirama frowned, falling out of his cheerful-determined mood for the first time. “Why...” he blinked questioningly at the shorter man, but he didn’t feel like helping him out. “Madara, hear me out. I don’t know what he said, but - I want you to listen and understand how I feel.”

 

The Uchiha sighed. It was probably easier to let him talk - he could tell him about his own decision afterwards. He was also, he had to admit, slightly curious how Hashirama thought his crazy idea could work. Or if he was serious about it at all.

 

“Make it short,” he ordered. His friend’s smile returned. It was that soft turn of lips he always found equally stupid and tempting. Yes, he could afford to listen to him one last time. To see him this happy, enthusiastic, as if they were still fourteen years olds, planning some senseless dream. Then he’d close away all his treacherous emotions somewhere deep inside and concentrate on how things really were.

  
**TBC…**


	10. To Love is to Let Go?

*/*/*

 

The excitement he felt wasn’t unlike he did before battles. But then, having a romance with Madara was akin to a war; he had to fight for being accepted again and again. Not that he minded it that much. He was now sure he knew what the right thing to do was, what he wanted and his lover needed. He shook off the fear that gripped him hearing Tobirama came to talk before him. He should have foreseen it - his brother’s temper got the worse out of him so often. But surely nothing happened that he couldn’t set right. So he smiled at his friend and rushed boldly ahead.

 

It didn’t go as he’d planned at all. Surely, he had been expecting some initial resistance - he knew the other wasn’t an open person, he didn’t admit his feelings easily, if at all. Complete and utter denial - he had foreseen it would be like that at first. But he assumed he would be able to break the icy barrier Madara could so expertly raise around himself, he always did after all, even if it was painstaking work.

 

This time however he got nowhere, no matter how reasonable and convincing he tried to be. He wasn’t even given a chance to try to make Madara agree to be in a known relationship with him as he simply denied that he wanted to have any kind of a romantic connection with Hashirama, period.

 

“All right,” he resisted the urge to grab the shorter man’s shoulders and shake him, or better yet, kiss him until his resistance melted. “Can you at least think about it?”

 

“There’s nothing to think about,” Madara was standing with his back against the window frame, his arms crossed in front of his chest, untameable hair shadowing most of his face in the dimly lit room. “I told you already - I’ve no wish to continue... as before with you. As for your morbid idea of announcing something so unacceptable for everyone to know... I won’t be hold responsible for your madness, no matter what your brother suggests.”

 

“Oh, snap out of this,” he stepped closer, now getting angry. “I thought we were over the self-denial phase finally...”

 

“ _Self-denial?!_ You swollen-headed bastard! Why can’t you just accept... get _out_ of my face!”

 

Going with the second option, he kissed him. Aggravated Madara was dangerous - but just as irresistible. And he kissed him back, just as he always did, his fingernails digging painfully into his nape. Hashirama caressed his face, his neck, then slid his palm down his chest. Before he could venture further to check if his lover was getting hard just as he was, his wrist was grabbed and the kiss ended.

 

“Must you do this to me?” Madara whispered, leaning his forehead against his shoulder. His tone was blank, not giving any clues for Hashirama about what he was thinking at all. Confused, he pressed his lips down on the top of his head, trying to be placating.

 

“Please hear me out. There’s nothing wrong in what we are doing...”

 

“Oh, you understand nothing!” Madara laughed, his voice hollow and humourless. Hashirama pulled the hair out of his face and he raised his head. He was pale, and his dark eyes shined feverishly. “I don’t care what they might say any more. I’m finished with this village, its people, my clan, your damned brother,” his tone was low but angrier with every word he spat in contempt. “As for you - I’m fed up with your naive idealism, your childish fate in everyone! I’ve already made my decision. I’ve wanted to talk to you tomorrow, but as you came here tonight... I’m leaving. I’ll pursue my real dream - this fake peace you forced on me doesn’t satisfy me any longer.”

 

“Leaving? Your real dream...?” he stammered. He took an involuntary step back and Madara pulled himself straight and set his chin up. He grinned a cracked, insane grin, a gesture that hold no mirth, and Hashirama suddenly felt unsure of what he should do, although throughout his life his goals always seemed clear. Protect his loved ones. Found the village. Be with Madara.

 

“There’s no place for me here. I’ve known this for a while now, but you - you’ve held me back. But I cut ties with you. There’s nothing between us, there never was. The only thing left for us is to clash. Yes… I’ll surely enjoy fighting with you once again.”

 

“You’re not going anywhere, I won’t let you!” He tried to get the control of this conversation back, but it turned to such a terrible direction so suddenly. He felt powerless to stop what was happening.

 

“And how do you intend to hold me back?” Madara blinked, and dark eyes turned blood red with his Sharingan. His pose was tense, ready to jump if Hashirama stepped closer – to attack or to flee, it was impossible to tell, probably he didn’t know himself.

“Madara...”

 

“If you try to come after me, I’ll kill you.”

 

“How could I continue without you...?”

 

“You’ll see me again - when we battle. As your enemy. That’s how it should be.”

 

Hashirama couldn’t tell how long he’d been standing in the empty room after Madara was gone. He tried to find reason in what had happened. Why didn’t he foresee it? It seemed that his plan, which he thought would ensure his lover to stay by his side, backfired. If anything, it was the last grain of sand that started a landslide. He should have stopped him, but how? He was obviously ready to battle him to death right there in his own house. Madara must have been planning this for a while, but he never suspected anything. How big of a fool he was? Was this somehow his fault…?

No… He did everything in his power, didn’t he? He really wanted to acknowledge his friend. It was the Uchiha’s own fault that their people, his own clan didn’t trust him. Only he stood in the way of his own happiness, he could only blame his own stubbornness for being unable to accept Hashirama’s love.

 

So Tobirama’s predictions came true. There was no surprise in that really. Hashirama could now move on. If only he wouldn’t feel this terrible, aching emptiness, like his heart was torn out of his chest...

 

*/*/*

 

“You can now stop being angry with me and start to talk to me again, you know!”

 

Hashirama glanced up at Tobirama, who was standing next to him with his hands on his hips. He looked grumpy, with a deep frown on his small face and with his reddish eyes narrowed to slits. He was obviously hurt, and the older boy suddenly felt guilty for behaving with him unfairly. He knew he only did what he thought was best for him.

 

“I’m not angry with you,” he reached up and tugged on his brother’s sleeve until he sat down next to him. “I’m just sad.”

 

“I don’t get why you’re sad still.”

 

“For... for losing a friend. My best friend.” His best friend indeed. Madara was that and more. From the moment he met him he rapidly became precious, the most important person to him. He felt bad for putting a stranger before his own family in his heart, but he couldn’t help it. And now he would never have the chance to tell him how he felt.

 

“You’ve other friends as well, don’t you? From our clan.” Tobirama asked tentatively. Hashirama embraced him, and for once he let himself be cuddled. With his fierce attitude it was easy to forget that his little brother was very young still.

 

“And I have you here as well. But I still miss him.”

 

“But he was an Uchiha!”

 

“That doesn’t matter.”

 

“But the Uchihas killed Kawarama and Itama!”

 

“As we killed many of their people. There’s no truth in vengeance, Tobirama. If we continue like that, the bloodshed will never end. We must put an end to the fights…”

 

The white haired boy clearly didn’t believe him, but he was also obviously glad that Hashirama wasn’t mad with him anymore. He leaned against him slightly, watching his own toes deep in thought.

 

“You can still meet with him later and be friends again, can’t you?”

 

“Yes, maybe,” he caressed his messy, white hair for being nice. “And if I do, I’ll make sure to never lose him again.” Now that he said it out loud, he immediately started to believe it was possible. Why not? He honestly believed in the deep friendship that built between them. Clearly, such a bond couldn’t be severed so easily.

 

“Hmph. Then everything’s all right now, right?”

 

“Right, brother.”

 

*/*/*

 

Standing in the empty room, Hashirama looked around as if waking from a dream. That conversation with his brother had happened so long ago, he had completely forgotten about it, only recalling and realizing now, how important it had been.  It seemed that at fourteen he knew better what to do than as an adult. He said he wouldn’t lose him again - and still he let him walk away? He’d been delaying here for how long, he couldn’t tell, but it couldn’t be too late, could it? He just had to go after him and try to make him stay.

 

“Wait for me Madara, I’m coming,” he whispered. So if it meant a fight between them, even if it meant his own death, what did it matter? How could he look in the mirror again if he didn’t even try?

 

He only delayed to ask a member of his friend's household to run to Tobirama with the message; he had to leave the village urgently, but would return as soon as he could. The man blinked at him in concern.

 

“Is it a mission with Madara-sama? I saw him leaving earlier.”

 

“It is,” Hashirama smiled at him. “A truly vital mission.”

 

Once out on the street, he closed his eyes and concentrated. Though his sensor abilities were nowhere as sophisticated as his lover’s or brother’s, there was no way he would miss Madara’s presence - he was sure he could find him even if he was already a hundred miles away. It took him but a heartbeat to know the right direction so he dashed away on fast legs.

 

 _Wait for me, I’m coming,_ he thought and hoped the other would somehow, miraculously, hear it.

 

 

**TBC…**   



	11. The Forest at Night

*/*/*

 

 

“Brother...”

 

The whisper was barely audible, but it woke Madara instantly. He’d been awake for more than two days straight and it seemed exhaustion won in the end and he dozed off.  He was slumped against the wall, fully dressed and with a cramp in his neck. He straightened his protesting spine and looked down at the frail figure lying on the futon.  One glance told him that Izuna was in an even worse condition than before he nodded off, and he cursed himself for his weakness, as if remaining awake would have somehow delayed the inevitable. The fever painted two bright spots on the boy’s pale cheeks and his eyes had a strange, unhealthy glint. The cloth on his forehead dried up almost completely, and his skin was burning hot under Madara’s fingers when he took it off to wet it again, though a glance outside to the settling sun told him that not more than an hour could have passed since he last did it.

 

“Are you thirsty?” he asked gently.

 

Izuna nodded so he embraced him and helped him to sit up. He pushed the limp locks out of his sweaty forehead and held a cup to his dry lips. He became frighteningly thin in the past two weeks, he could feel the bumps of his spine and ribs under his clothes. He was dying, Madara knew very well, he had seen enough people on their deathbed to recognise all the signs. He’d be soon gone, leaving him alone in this mad world.

 

“Brother,” he repeated when he was laid back and tucked in. He looked like a child, much younger than his seventeen years, so frail and broken.  “I’ve been thinking about that man.”

 

“Which man?” Madara questioned quietly.

 

“The Senju leader.”

 

“You shouldn’t waste your strength on such thoughts,” Madara certainly didn’t want to talk about him or even to think about him, ever again. Not that it worked – since that last, fateful battle his mind kept running circles around Hashirama, his homicidal brother and Izuna, dying, while he was unable to do anything to prevent it, or even to lessen his suffering. 

“You wanted to accept his offer, didn’t you? He talked about peace - but that’s a deception, you know it, right? There could never be peace between our clans.”

 

“I know,” Madara closed his eyes. He felt so tired and lost. He wished there was someone he could share the weight on his shoulders with, but he was alone. It wouldn’t take much time and there wouldn’t be even Izuna to talk to, listen to. They were silent for a while, the wounded teen’s ragged breaths the only sound in the room.

 

“He was that boy, wasn’t he? The strange boy at the riverbank.” Izuna’s voice was wondering, without accusation, but his brother still felt as if he was caught at doing something guilty.

 

“Yes,” he whispered.

 

“Was it why you wanted to agree to what he offered? And he’s already sent a ceasefire-pact since, didn’t he?”

 

“Yes...”

 

“Do you trust him to keep his word?”

 

 _He’d always kept his word, but that was… in a different life. A life where the chaos of war didn’t took away all the loved ones yet and my best friend didn’t turn out to be the worst enemy of our kind,_ Madara did not say. There, on the battlefield he was sorely tempted to accept Hashirama’s, his deadly rival’s, hand. He seemed so sincere, like he really wanted to put an end to the fighting. Like he really wanted to make peace with him. For a deceitful moment he saw him as the boy who he used to meet on the riverbank, honest, bubbling with emotions, be them joy or sorrow, full of life...

 

“How could I?” he replied. “He’s our enemy and his brother...” _is your murderer,_ “...wounded you so.”

 

Izuna remained silent for so long that Madara assumed he’d fallen asleep. His eyes were closed and one of his hands was gripping the thin blanket thrown over him at his stomach, where that fatal wound lay underneath.

 

“Peace,” he breathed, hardly audible when his brother had almost nodded off again with his back against the wall, “I’m sad that I’ll never live in peace now.”

 

Madara had no answer for that and they’d never talked about Hashirama again in the short days that were left from Izuna’s life.

 

*/*/*

 

He stopped under the great trees, looking up at the dark canopy absently through his dead brother’s eyes, his last present to him. Where had his anger gone? A treacherous, weak part of him wanted to go back, back to Hashirama. He should have fought him right there in his own house when his fury still burned high. He wished for rage, thundering wrath, its hot waves to wash over him and erase everything else from his mind. He had every right to be mad at the Senjus – for Izuna’s suffering and death, for taking his father and all his brothers away, for turning his clan against him, for all those lies, deceptions of peace, a safe haven, _love…_ But all he felt was sorrow.

 

“Neither of us is to live in peace, brother,” he told the forest around him. “Peace is only an illusion, something only naive fools believe in.”

 

Fools like Hashirama. Shinobi were creatures of war - to make them settle down and put away their weapons was a morbid idea. He didn’t even understand why he’d ever agreed to it. The inhabitants of the village had already started to go soft. A potent attack and they would be wiped out of existence. If not for the _Hokage’s_ protection, he could probably eliminate them all singlehandedly. He would try it even with him there, he just needed to become even more powerful. Who could stand in his way if he gathered even more force? Who could hurt him then?

****  
  


He spun around abruptly, sure that he heard someone call out his name, but he was all alone. Still he concentrated, closing his eyes, but all the while ready for a surprise attack, wanting to sense if anyone was near. His lids snapped open in less than a minute. He found two things. One - Hashirama was coming towards him, still far away but at high speed. How he did know where he was, when Madara was careful to disguise his chakra and was sure he hadn't left any clues behind was a mystery. The other thing was a group of ninjas gathering a few short miles away. Undecided what to do about the first revelation, he decided to check out on the second.

 

He made sure _he_ wouldn’t be sensed as he silently as a shadow advanced, sneaking up to the group unnoticed. _Iwagakure._ He curled his lip in disgust. There were a dozen of them, heading towards Konoha under the cover of the night. Planning an attack maybe, or trying to steal something? Wanting to assassinate someone? His hand closed on the handle of his gunbai, the fury he missed before filling him now in a heartbeat, turning the edge of his vision red. If it was the last, they could only have two targets; himself of Hashirama.

 

He could finish them off, they would stand no chance against him, especially if he took them by surprise. He moved to do exactly that, but stopped in mid-motion. Why should he attack? He had left Konoha - the enemies of the village weren’t his concern any more.

 

He turned to another direction, walking around the group. If Hashirama came across them, he would be at least slowed down and Madara could gain a head start. He wasn’t ready to face him right now, so soon after they’d just parted for good. He wanted their next meeting to be on his own terms, so he could finally dominate their fight, overtop his old friend.

 

As he got farther, his long strides started to slow. What if Hashirama would bypass them? Shouldn’t he make sure that he’d come across these sneaky bastards from the Stone? He’d need to arrange them to be engaged in a fight, to lead his pursuer right into the arms of the foreign shinobi, so he could get away without disturbance. Reassuring himself with the thought that it was all right to turn back, he did so instantly, dashing quick like lightning between the trees.

 

He wasn’t the only one. Another group of eight people were heading at the same direction. The back-up team for the Hidden Stone ninjas, he guessed. That meant twenty foes together - a force to be heeded even by Hashirama, as Iwagakure was known to send its warriors into battle well prepared. He wondered how he would keep up against them.

 

He came to a halt when the first sounds of fighting reached his ears. So he had met them. Good. No need for him to go back any more, right?

 

Still he hesitated. One last peek at him couldn’t hurt, could it? He wouldn’t have the opportunity ever again just to _watch_ Hashirama battling, when the opponent wasn’t himself. Just to look at him as an observer. Surely it would come handy in their own final, inevitable clash. Silently he sneaked closer.

 

****_TBC…  
  
_


	12. Carelessness

*/*/*

 

 

He knew he was on the right track, though he couldn’t tell why he was so sure. He couldn’t sense Madara’s chakra - he was pretty sure he was concealing it - he just _felt_ which direction to go. He was running for gods knew how long, but didn’t even think about taking a break or even slowing. He _had to_ catch up with his lover - if he couldn’t now, he’d never have the chance to be with him again. In this he was also absolutely sure.

 

He was focusing inside, listening to his instincts, so he only noticed the group of foreign ninjas surrounding him in the last moment. He cursed under his breath, skipping to a halt. Tobirama warned him countless times that he was too careless. Even the strongest could be killed by a stab in the back, he’d always said. But damn it to hell, it was not the time to be cautious, when the most important person on earth may be disappearing for ever in any moment. Still, obviously he couldn’t just bypass a bunch of probably hostile, unknown shinobi so near to Konoha.

 

“Who are you and what business have you here?” he called out to the seemingly empty forest. But they were around him he knew, ready to attack. Ten or maybe more of them. In a minute or so a man stepped out from between the trees, or rather, emerged from the ground. An Earth-element user - from Hidden Stone, based on his garbs. Hashirama smiled softly. He was on familiar ground, in the woods which was _his_ element. No matter how many they were, he wouldn’t lose against them. But he really needed to finish this quickly, before Madara got too far. He only hesitated as he didn’t want to charge on them before he heard their intentions or they made the first step.

 

“You are very unfortunate to be out here at such a late hour, sonny,” the stubby, middle aged man grumbled on a deep voice. Hashirama’s eyebrows rose in slight annoyance at the disrespectful addressing - it was not something that happened to him since at seventeen he’d become the leader of his clan. But this guy obviously didn’t knew who he was, dressed in casual clothing, flushed and sweaty from his mad race after Madara. “We have no business with you, but as you happened on us here - we can’t let you live.”

 

“That’s unfortunate indeed,” Hashirama agreed. “As you’re about the kill me, tell me at least; why had you come here.”

 

“I like your calm, boy,” the man chuckled. “Or maybe you’re just that simple? But here you are - we came for your Hokage’s head.”

 

“Do you think he could be murdered by the likes of you?” A bit full of themselves, they were.

 

“That won’t be your concern. He’ll be dead soon, but you’re the first to go.”

 

“I’ll make your job easier then,” he said, having enough of this game. He was wasting precious time here. “Senju Hashirama at your service.” Before he could react, the Iwagakure ninja was grabbed by strong branches sprouting forth from the ground, immobilizing him instantly. He had a moment to enjoy the fearful comprehension on the wide face before the others charged on him, rushing forth from all direction.

 

He had no particular wish to kill them but he couldn’t afford to show mercy. They declared they’d come to murder him - they were his enemies, a danger to the whole village probably. Still, he rather wounded then dealt a fatal blow, or held them down with his technique. It would be enough, he reasoned, if they couldn’t fight or flee. He would decide their fate _on the way back_ home with Madara.

 

Just like that, as if thinking about him miraculously made him appear, he sensed him being so close, amongst the trees. Though he had been fighting, Hashirama’s heart started to beat really fast only now. Without a second thought he dashed towards him, leaving his still standing opponents entangled in thick vines.

 

And he was there, glaring at him as if it was somehow Hashirama’s fault that he couldn’t leave for good. With a smile the Senju stepped towards him. He felt another, smaller group behind Madara before either of them could say anything, more attackers. He instantly raced up to him, to shove him out of fire line. The Uchiha jumped back before he could touch him, clearly aware of the danger and not needing his interference. He scowled at him and Hashirama smiled ruefully – he _knew_ the other didn’t need his protection, but it was a second nature…When those heavy-lidded, sensuous eyes opened in alarm, he assumed he was just angry with him. He understood too late that he misinterpreted that look and should have taken it as a warning.

 

A stone lance erupted out from the earth behind his back. Focused as he was on Madara and the danger he might be in, he sensed the attack too late. He twisted his body sideways, so the stab avoided his heart, but it still run through his chest, lifting him off the ground. He broke the hard material the next instant and tore it from his flesh. Of course, their target was him, not the Uchiha, it was silly to try to save him while lowering his own guard so, especially as he certainly knew how to take care of himself. He spun around, putting up his defence and wanting to advance on his opponents. He couldn’t take more than a step before he fell to his knees.

 

He pressed his palm to his chest and noticed how blood was soaking the material rapidly. Oh, damn, such a stupid, careless way to get injured. He wanted to stand up, as he didn’t have the time to deal with the wound right then, but his legs didn’t obey him. Instead of getting up he found himself dropping to his side on the ground. He gasped for air, but failed to draw in any.

 

Strangely from a distance, as if he was underwater, he heard Madara cry out, his voice filled with insane fury. Sounds of steel clashing on steel and the hot wave of some fire technique casted reached him. His friend was fighting the Iwagakure ninjas.

 

Through the hole on his shirt he touched the edges of the wound and finally started to heal himself. The cool, emotionless part of his brain that usually led him in battles finally kicked in and started to analyse the damage. His lungs. Partly his liver. He closed his eyes and concentrated only on the chakra flowing into his cells, repairing the damage. This was a fatal wound, he realized immediately. Someone else he could heal, but to save himself, when he couldn’t breathe, when with every desperate beat his heart pumped out more and more blood through the gash on his chest...

 

 _I can’t die like this._ He gritted his teeth and forced himself to keep up the healing. The world was going grey, and he knew he was close to asphyxiation. _Just a bit more… Don’t drift off…_ He coughed up blood and was relieved when air rushed into his lungs again. He succeeded at least in repairing the damage there. Good. He closed his eyes, wanting to rest.

 

 _No, stay awake!_ Heroically he tried to continue to close the wound, but his mind was dizzy, his strength and concentration gone. He had lost too much blood in too short time. His chances were... well, he wouldn’t bet on his own life, though he always enjoyed a risky gamble... Tobirama was right in his forewarning - a stab in the back could indeed kill him - but he doubted his brother would find any joy in being right about this... His hand slid off from the cut, but he didn’t even notice. He just needed to stay conscious a bit longer. Madara was here - he wanted to see him one last time.

 

*/*/*

 

“Father, how does it feel to die?”

 

They were all gathered around mom’s grave. The two years old Kawarama was clinging to dad’s neck, tears falling steadily as he didn’t understand what happened, just that it was something terrible. Hashirama was holding the new-born Itama in one arm. His other hand was clasped in a death grip by Tobirama. The white haired boy wasn’t crying, just stared steadily at the heap of soil that covered the coffin. The eldest brother didn’t have any tears himself - he still couldn’t comprehend that their mother, this kind but strong woman, was gone. Though he was just eight, he had already seen many people die, but he hadn’t thought it was something that could happen to his family as well.

 

Everything seemed to be all right at childbirth, at least he heard the other women telling their father so. Then after a day she suddenly fainted. She was laid down - and she never got up again. In another day she passed away. Hashirama just wanted to know if she had been hurt, but dad’s eyes, though his face was emotionless as if craved from stone, held such pain that he regretted his question.

 

“Only the dead could answer that, son.”

 

Tobirama’s head snapped up at that, glaring at them.

 

“Then I’ll figure out how to ask them!”

 

“Don’t say something so absurd!” father growled and Hashirama stepped in front of his brother in case his temper got the worst out of him again...

 

Then he wasn’t in the cemetery any longer but somewhere warm and safe. His family was there, with the exception of Tobirama. His two little brothers, who died so terribly young, in battle, their childhood ripped away in the most violent manner... His father, who he could never really get on with, but now they would have the chance to resolve their quarrels, to finally ease the tension that had always been between them. His mom - he so desperately missed her in all his childhood, her warm love, the safety her arms offered. He’d felt so left alone after she died. The responsibility he took on after she passed away, to take care of the family had been so heavy… and he failed so miserably. He’d never been able to live up what he supposed was expected of him. So often he’d seen the disappointment in his father’s eyes, in Tobirama’s eyes…He couldn’t protect them, they’d died one by one… But surely they had forgiven him. He took a step forward. Should he rush up to them? He wanted to. They were all waiting for him. He wanted to run to them, talk to them again…

 

Still he hesitated. Didn’t he have things to do before he could join them? It was hard to recall what had been so important before as if some thick fog was clouding his mind. What could matter more than to speak with his father, to see if he was proud of him now? To embrace his mother, to be reassured she’d always loved him, that she had never wanted to leave them. To play with his brothers again, see them carefree and joyful as they should have been... Another step then one more before he suddenly stopped.

 

He had a village to protect he remembered suddenly, there were all those people counting on him. Tobirama, who would be devastated over losing him as well. He’d be left truly alone - would he turn bitter and lonely? He was talking about that jutsu sometimes, which could bring the dead back, but Hashirama always warned him not to experiment with it... He would just fail him as well, the last member of his family, if he went any further. How could he look into the eyes of their mother then?

 

And Madara... he couldn’t leave until he made up with Madara, could he? Suddenly that strange fog cleared up in his mind, and he recalled that he was there, fighting after Hashirama got injured. There were so many things he wanted to tell him, to do with him… Yes… he had to stop him from leaving. And to make him understand that he loved him. He had lost even more than him, lost everything. Now there was no one else but Hashirama to prove to him that their dream of the village hadn’t been in vain. That there was a place where he could live happy and content. That he could still have a purpose in life. He wanted to give him that. He wanted to give him anything and everything, wanted to see him smile as he smiled in their childhood, not bitter and sarcastic, not mad over his losses, but open and believing. How could he even consider dying before he did so?

 

He took a step backwards. It was so much harder to do than to advance forward, downright painful.

 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered to the dead. “I can’t join you just yet.”

 

Before he turned, he saw his mom raise her hand, waving him goodbye with a sad, but understanding smile.

*/*/*

 

Someone was cursing him, telling him to be all kinds of fool, the biggest idiot on earth. He was also being held and rocked gently back and forth. He knew that voice, he knew that _scent_ even if it was heavily disguised under the metallic stench of blood.

 

It took him considerable effort to open his heavy lids. He could now answer his eight-years old self; dying hurt like bitch. Or was it staying alive that was so painful? As if half of a mountain collapsed on his chest, he could hardly breathe, his whole body was thrumming with agony at each fluttering heartbeat and he was weak, so weak.

 

He listened to Madara calling him an irresponsible, untrustworthy Senju bastard, who deserved everything that happened to him. He sounded terribly agitated. Hashirama really needed to stay with him and somehow try to make him feel better.

 

**TBC…**

 

 _ **Art drawn by**_[DCacat](http://www.baidu.com/p/%E7%B2%A5%E4%B8%83%E6%9D%8F?from=msg) _**and used with permission of the artist. Thank you!**_


	13. Don't You Dare...

*/*/*

 

 

It happened so quickly - Madara stood there paralyzed, watching as Hashirama’s chest was torn open by the Stone ninja’s technique, as he stumbled and fell. Watched and thought that this was in some horrible, unfair way, his fault. His friend obviously noticed his presence and as the single-minded fool he was, he came to him without a second thought. Madara should have killed that bloody back up team straight when he noticed them, or rather, shouldn’t have turned back at all and this wouldn’t have happened.

 

That strange spell that rendered him immobile for a moment was broken when Hashirama’s head hit the ground. He cried out, in unbelief, fury, rage over his helplessness and attacked. He showed no mercy - he slaughtered all of the Iwagakure ninjas. It wasn’t even a fight, they’ve stood no chance against him but at least until the massacre lasted he didn’t have to think about the implication of Hashirama crumbling like that, about how grave that wound had to be.

 

All too soon it was over. He looked around at the mutilated corpses and smouldering tree-stumps somewhat lost. Tentatively he walked up to where his friend was lying. There was blood everywhere, soaking his clothes, seeping into the ground underneath him.

 

Madara kneeled down next to him and brushed the hair out of his face. His tanned skin was so pallid that is was downright greyish, even his lips were colourless. He touched his neck hesitantly, searching for his pulse. He jerked back in surprise when he found it, though it was weak and way too fast - he’d been sure he was touching a dead body that hadn’t cooled out completely yet.

 

He pulled out a kunai and cut the torn shirt that was getting stiff with drying blood, to inspect the gash on Hashirama’s chest. It looked gruesome, deep and wide, with mangled edges, showing raw flesh. That jutsu must have damaged vital organs, lungs, liver, the gastric maybe. By all means, the Senju should have been dead by now. Seemed like he could heal himself at least to some degree before he passed out.

 

“You’ve always been a stubborn fool, who doesn’t know when to give up,” he whispered. “So don’t you dare to leave me now. If anyone can kill you, that should be me.”

 

Glad to have something to do, he pulled out bandages from his pouches and tried to tend the wound as much as he could. He found that his friend’s chest, where the stone lance exited, looked better than his back, where the gash was still mostly open and bleeding. Hashirama was lucky that his spine remained intact.

 

Of course lucky was a relative term; it was very improbable that he would live. It would be a miracle if he survived until dawn, and that was only an hour or so away.  It was only due to his self-healing abilities and his insane life-force that he was still breathing.

 

Despair took over him when he was ready with the bandaging and there was nothing else he could do. The feeling of helplessness was driving him mad. He’d done this so many times before; watching without being capable to do anything that could prevent the passing away of those he cared for. He thought he’d never again have to, as he lost everyone from his family already. But waiting, afraid that every rattling breath Hashirama took would be the last one, wasn’t any easier. He sat down on the ground and pulled the other man’s head into his lap, as if by holding him, he could somehow make him stay alive.

 

“You damned, bloody fool,” he grit out. Something, which felt suspiciously like tears, was constricting his throat. “It’s not supposed to be like this. We were to battle, to match against each other. You can only die if I’m the one who beats you. Do you hear it? You can’t go now.”

 

He leaned over him, until their foreheads almost touched and started to rock his unresponsive body slightly. His fingers were digging into the unconscious man’s arms, leaving red prints. He hadn’t even noticed before they were stained. There was blood everywhere; Hashirama’s, the Hidden Stone shinobis’, tainting everything he touched. He tried to wipe it off, but he only managed to smudge it. It infuriated him, as if it was somehow taunting him. As if no matter how he tried, he couldn’t get away from all that blood, all that death.

 

“You’re not allowed to leave me. Who do you think you are? You fucking idiot. Getting killed by a bunch of nobodies. And you were chosen to be the Hokage?! You’re a failure, a shame... You can’t die like this.”

 

If he was gone as well, Madara would be left truly, completely alone. There would be no one to fight, no one to talk to. Nobody, who could understand him. He’d be the strongest without doubt then, but what use it would be, if there wasn’t anyone to match against? And also... the only person who called him a friend, who cared for him, was lying in his arms, more dead than alive. Never again would he tell him his stupid, naive ideas, his dreams. He’d never feel his body against his, warm, comforting and arousing. There wouldn’t be those short minutes of weaknesses when he let himself believe he was loved and cherished.

 

“You can’t do this to me. I can’t watch you die like I watched _them._ Please...”

 

 

He was rambling, he knew, but who was here to judge him? He caressed Hashirama’s matted hair with his blood-stained fingers, cursing him, pleading him, blaming him. He couldn’t let him go, he couldn’t stop touching him, or he would die. Illogical as that was, he believed it fully.

 

Still, he almost dropped him in surprise when his cold hand touched his face. Startled, he raised his head and looked down. Dark eyes blinked up at him, clouded with pain, but awake. _Alive._ The injured man caressed his cheeks again and, proving that he was the mindless idiot Madara just accused him to be, grinned. It was actually more of a grimace, battered, bloody, but the Uchiha still recognised it for what it was meant to be.

 

Uncaring that he was surely causing him pain, he dragged him up so he could kiss him. The heavy taste of blood should have been revolting, but he hardly noticed it at all. When he pulled back, Hashirama coughed and hissed in pain. Madara laid him down into his lap again and he winced.

 

“...hurts,” he croaked, barely audible and with an apologetic grimace, as if it was his fault that Madara moved him when he obviously needed to remain motionless.

 

“Of course it hurts, you damned fool!” the Uchiha snapped. “You have a hole through your chest I could push my fist through!”

 

 

 

“...thank you...”

 

“Oh, don’t bloody thank me! You have nothing to thank! You run after me so brainlessly, got almost killed and now I have to delay here because you obviously can’t be trusted to stay alive alone,” Hashirama was looking at him strangely, and he had to cast his glance away. It was disturbing that even in such state he was reading him. “...I’ve did nothing you can thank. This is my fault.”

 

For someone supposedly dying, the Senju shook his head with surprising vehemence. He tried to speak again, but started to cough. Madara wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth before it could dribble down his face.

 

“Spare your strength,” he told him more calmly. “I guess they will come looking for you. Knowing you, you didn’t leave the village unobtrusively so... your brother should be here soon, to drag you back by the ear.”

 

He should be gone by then. It looked like Hashirama might survive after all, so he could go on with his original plan of getting stronger and challenging him later. He’d just... just stay a bit longer, to make sure someone was coming to rescue their precious Hokage. Not because he wanted to remain, but to reassure himself that his rival wouldn’t die before his time.

 

Hashirama reached up again and gently made him turn his face and look at him. He was looking so solemn, but determined. Couldn’t he let Madara be in control at least when he was in such a state?

 

“...stay,” he told him, as if he was reading his thoughts.

 

“I’ve already made up my mind. _This -_ this changes nothing.”

 

“...love you,” he grasped Madara’s wrist with surprising strength and pulled it to his lips. The kiss left a bloody mark on the back of his hand.

 

“You are very annoying, I hope you know that. If you have that much energy, heal yourself further.” He placed Hashirama’s palm onto his chest and held it there. Soon he could feel the warm waves of healing chakra flowing into that terrible gash.

 

Of course in such a state he couldn’t keep it up for long, but it was something. He fell asleep afterwards, but his breathing was more deep and even, and his pulse more regular and strong, so Madara wasn’t afraid that he’d never wake up again.

 

He couldn’t leave now of course, with the wounded fool unconscious. He would wait, he decided, until he felt someone heading towards them. For that time he could remain. He started to caress Hashirama’s hair. It got matted, with dirt, sweat and blood, wasn’t as silky under his fingertips as usual. For a while he just focused on smoothing out the tangles carefully, excluding everything else from his mind.

 

In truth he didn’t he didn’t feel like letting him go. He’d almost lost him for good - he wanted to hold him like this for ever, to make sure he’d remain with him. But as that was impossible, he’d be happy with this few hours.

 

How long could it take for those lazy bastards to find them anyway? Didn’t anyone notice the fight? They weren’t that far away from the village. Their leader needed their help - was there nobody to count on? Now that he’d leave, Hashirama could lean on only on these idiots. What a shame. He’d need him surely, without him he’d be lost. But that wasn’t his problem, was it? Hashirama, the village, the clan weren’t his concerns any more. So any minute now and he’d get up and walk away...

 

Tobirama arrived not long after dawn, accompanied by a few other ninjas. Madara was relieved to recognise a medic among them. They stared dumbstruck at him, at the obvious signs of massacre all around and of course at the bloodied, bandaged Hashirama, whose head was still pillowed in his lap. He supposed he should have stood up to save both of their dignity, but he didn’t feel like letting him go anytime soon.

 

**TBC…**

 

_**Art drawn by[DCacat](http://tieba.baidu.com/home/main?un=DCacat&fr=pb)  and [粥七杏](http://www.baidu.com/p/%E7%B2%A5%E4%B8%83%E6%9D%8F?from=msg) and used with permission of the artists. Thank you!** _


	14. Anything, but This…

 

*/*/*

 

 

When he was waken up in the middle of the night by some Uchiha banging on his door to report; his brother left the village, going after Madara on some fishy “vital mission”, but he shouldn’t worry as he’d be back soon, Tobirama’s stomach twisted with an ominous feeling. He paced back and forth in his room for a good half an hour, before he decided that being overly cautious was still better than being unprepared.

 

So he dressed quickly, collected a few selected shinobi he trusted, shouted at them when he caught them yawning sleepily and went to search for Hashirama.

 

When he sensed his chakra he felt relief only for a moment, before he realized how feeble it was, fluttering like an unsteady heartbeat. To make it worse, he sensed Madara there as well, his power strong and distasteful as always, settling on the back of his tongue like something bitter he ate.

 

He sped up, scared that his fears would prove to be well-founded. He always assumed the worst of the Uchiha, but if he hurt his brother, he’d make him pay... The others got his sense of urgency and followed his neck-breaking tempo without complaint. As they got closer he sensed the smell of battle - smoke from the burnt wood of the forest, the stench of blood and death. He prepared himself for the worst.

 

At first glance he thought he’d arrived too late, that Madara had murdered his brother. He drew his sword, ready to take revenge on the bastard, uncaring of the differences of their strength, when he realized - Hashirama was bandaged and the Uchiha was holding him close, tenderly, he would have said if he could have imagined him capable of something like that at all, amongst at least a dozen corpses. He didn’t let him go even when the medic-nin in his group rushed ahead to check the wounded.

 

“Will he live?” he asked silently when the horrible gash on his brother’s chest was uncovered.

 

“Yes,” it was Madara who answered, though he certainly didn’t direct the question at him. “He won’t die like this.”

 

Was he the one responsible for the slaughterhouse around them, Tobirama wondered. It certainly seemed so. He was paler than usual, but apparently unharmed. He appeared almost like his normal self, save for the dull look in his eyes, but his behaviour was certainly strange. He was almost clinging to Hashirama, now and then smoothing the hair out of his face with a gesture that very much looked like a caress, while the medic worked on closing the wound, so the injured man could be moved. The white-haired Senju also noted how blood was smeared at the corners of his mouth. Hashirama had the same suspicious smudges at his lips. He hoped the others would be too shocked at the state their leader was in to notice. Though honestly, he had bigger concerns right then.

 

He waited until his brother was carried back safely to Konoha, until he was reassured by three different healers that despite the grave wound, he would live, before rounding on Madara and questioning him on what had happened.

 

“That group of Iwagakure ninjas attacked us,” came the nonchalant answer. It seemed he was back to his usual behaviour, though his glance kept jumping back now and then to the prone figure lying in the bed a few steps away from them. “and he was careless. They’ve attacked him from behind and...” he made a vague motion with his hand, but Tobirama still understood what he meant. He warned his brother countless times that he wasn’t attentive enough - why wasn’t he listening to him, ever?

 

“That doesn’t explain what you were doing out in the forest at such an hour.”

 

“I don’t see how’s that your concern.”

 

“Are you joking?” he growled. “My brother is lying here between life and death! If this is somehow your fault...”

 

“I’m not afraid of your threats, Senju,” Madara replied, his glance once again on Hashirama, not even paying him any real attention. “And he will live.”

 

For the first time in his life, Tobirama believed him. Maybe only because he wanted to believe him, but also... he seemed so sure, if it was a fact that couldn’t even be questioned.

 

Hashirama was unconscious for almost three days. Annoyingly enough the Uchiha barely left his side. Unwilling to leave his brother alone with him, Tobirama was stuck with sitting on the other side of the bed, staying vigil to make sure he wouldn’t do anything that could hurt him. But after a day and a half he could admit that obviously Madara wouldn’t be causing the wounded man any harm, and he had things to do as the Hokage couldn’t attend to his duties and it was now up to him to ensure; everything remained in order for that time. So reluctantly he left them alone. When, hours later he returned, Madara was asleep in his chair that he dragged close to the bed so he could hold Hashirama’s hand. After a moment of hesitation Tobirama stepped back to the corridor and closed the door. He stood outside the room for a long time, wondering what on earth he should do now, but wasn’t able to come up with any satisfying decision.

 

It was rather ironic, how Hashirama chose the time to wake up when Madara finally went on his business. He had a clan to lead after all - it was rather surprising that he could afford to neglect them for days.

 

Tobirama was in the room, fiddling with reports he had to read at least three times to gain their meaning. He hadn’t slept much since _that_ night, partly because of all the things he had to do, but also as when he nodded off, his mind always conjured the worst nightmares of his brother’s death. He was alerted by some soft noise – he raised his head, just to see Hashirama trying to sit up. He rushed to him and gently pushed him back. It was such a relief to see him awake, his eyes a bit cloudy, but focusing on him.

 

“How do you feel?” he questioned him, more gruffly than he intended.

 

“Great,” Hashirama lied, repressing a wince. He looked like death warmed over with his greyish complexion and dark circles under his eyes - but then, no one but him could have survived such an injury. “Where is...?”

 

“You’re an irresponsible idiot!” Tobirama’s voice rose, but he was just unable to remain calm any longer, after all the fear and tension he lived in these last few days. He felt so relieved that his brother finally woke that he could have cried. Still, anger filled him as well and he just couldn’t hold it back. “Your only luck is that you are a powerful idiot! Anyone else would have died of that wound.”

 

“Funny, I seem to recall Madara telling me exactly that. Listen brother - where is he?” his voice was filled with an urgency Tobirama didn’t like at all.

 

“With his clan I’d expect...”

 

“So he’s in the village?” Hashirama grabbed his wrist, looking desperate for the answer. Red eyes narrowed in suspicion. What was exactly going on here?

 

“Where else would he be? Rest now,” he raised his hand. “You probably shouldn’t talk yet. Your lungs were gravely damaged. We have a lot of things to clear, but only when you’re feeling better.”

 

Hashirama did as he was told, a sure sign he was really unwell. Tobirama made him drink some water, tucked him in and tried to look as strict as he could, when in reality it was just tiredness and great relief he was feeling. He expected his brother to fall asleep again soon, but he was just staring at the ceiling, looking anxious. Tobirama sighed, silently cursed every deity he could think of and added;

 

“He didn’t leave your side for three days, you know. He’ll be back soon, I’m sure.”

 

And he was. It was fighting against the unstoppable, like trying to hold back a landslide with his bare hands without the aid of any jutsu, so Tobirama just gave up trying to prevent... whatever was going on between this two.

 

Not that Madara was gentle with his brother. When he entered the room and saw him being back to consciousness, he started to shout with him for almost getting himself killed and stormed away when Hashirama tried to get up. He was back in an hour though, calmer, or downright cold. Still, his brother looked ridiculously happy to have him there. He talked in short, emotionless sentences, but when Hashirama grabbed his arm he suddenly fell silent. Tobirama, who up till that point tried to pretend he was busy with his papers and not watching them, started to feel uneasy to be in their presence. When they’d just stared at each other for a moment that dragged on forever, he escaped the room.

 

The rumours begun to spread like wildfire, of course. It was no wonder, the way Madara all but moved into the sickroom, the way Hashirama was staring at him with amorous doe-eyes even if someone else was present - and as the news of his recovery got around, he naturally received many visitors.

 

Though everyone quickly shut their mouth when he was near, Tobirama still heard the gossips.   _I’m so shocked... Do you think they are really... you know? Ah, I suspected it all along - haven’t I told you about that time... Did you know he almost killed himself once for him? Yes, I tell you, it’s true... I’ve heard he slaughtered at least fifty of them when the Hokage was injured... I’ve been in the room, and the way they were looking at each other...It’s a shame, such a fine man, but some people are just like that..._

 

He was getting fed up with it rapidly. Did people really have nothing better to do? The whole village, from the elite ninjas to the dango store owner seemed to be happily chewing on the possibilities what could be going on between those two.

 

Irritated, he went to ask Hashirama to be more discrete, only to find Madara sitting strangely flushed and more dishevelled than ever on his chair, while his brother was just lying back in the bed, with a goofy smile on his face. Tobirama didn’t even want to try to imagine what they had been doing before he entered, behind a not even closed door.

 

“You should be still resting, you know,” he snapped before turning on his heels and leaving them alone.

 

That did it. He wasn’t taking responsibility for anything that might happen. If that was what they wanted... it wasn’t his business. His brother was a grown-up man, even if he behaved like a brat sometimes.

 

As he roamed the streets aimlessly, his dark thoughts still on Hashirama and Madara, he was rounded by two men, asking if he thought the _Hokage-sama_ could attend the celebrations that were due next week. The anniversary of the foundation of Konoha was coming up, he was reminded and as last year’s festive was such a success...

 

“I’m sure no one could hold him back from attending,” he sighed. “But he is still weak, so don’t expect him to remain for long.”

 

“Do you think he’ll find someone to accompany him, Tobirama-san?”

 

He glared at them. Two pairs of eyes looked at him with fake innocence. Oh, the bloody hypocrites.

 

“I suspect my brother will be joined by his _partner,”_ he gritted out. The word left a bitter taste in his mouth.

 

“Oh...?” He didn’t miss the sly glance the men exchanged. “Did he find a bride he’s satisfied with then after all? Who’s the lucky girl?”

 

Enough of this, he thought. Anything was better than gossips and innuendo. So be it.

 

 _“He_ is there with him all day, sitting next to his bed, as I expect you all know,” he spat and left them standing there gobsmacked, without waiting for a response.

 

Next day when Madara finally got lost for a few hours, he told Hashirama this conversation. He started at him in astonishment before a stupid grin broke out on his face.

 

“Let me make it clear,” Tobirama held up his hand, before he could say anything. “This doesn’t mean that I approve _at all_. I just can’t fight against such a self-destructive force. I’m absolutely sure it will end very badly and that he’ll just hurt you, but I know you can only learn from your own... _What the hell are you doing?_ You shouldn’t be getting out of the bed yet...”

 

He was caught in a bone-crushing hug, and that rendered him silent.

 

“Thank you. Thank you, brother.”

 

He patted Hashirama’s back awkwardly and hoped that despite all chances against it, he somehow, miraculously would be happy with Madara.

 

**TBC…**


	15. Giving In

*/*/*

 

 

“I can’t believe he outed it like that! What the hell was he thinking? I know he loathes me, and believe me, the feeling is more than mutual, but I thought he wants to save at least your reputation!”

 

“Madara, _everyone_ knew about it already...”

 

“No! They might have _suspected_ it, but that doesn’t mean your brother had any right to confirm it! Last evening when I went home I’ve been asked by my housekeeper if you’re _going to move in_! Oh, wipe that grin off, you moron! It’s not funny at all!”

 

“But that’s rather nice, isn’t it? It means they don’t have any objections.”

 

“I’m pretty sure they’re just curious if they can catch you groping me.”

 

Hashirama smiled, but was smart enough not to comment on that. He was sitting in the bed, his back propped up against the headboard and watching him with eyes brightened by emotions Madara wasn’t willing to analyse. He was obviously satisfied with what his brother had done. The Uchiha, though annoyed, wasn’t as furious as he had every right to be.

 

He looked at his old friend and wondered how on earth he had ended up in a known relationship with him. By all standards it should have been unacceptable - they were both men, for crying out loud, who’ve heard of such a thing being admitted? Funnily enough, nobody seemed as scandalized as Madara expected them to be. The whole village appeared to be under Hashirama’s spell, and accepted anything he did. Or maybe it was because of the way he acted, as if it was no big deal, completely natural for the leader of the village to ditch every woman who was pining after him (and there were a lot, he had to know it), to decline even the possibility of a beneficial political marriage and to choose _him_ of all people. Of course everyone was gossiping about them, but it wasn’t really spiteful, rather just excited.

 

“So? Would you like it?”

 

“Hmm? What do you mean?” he asked absentmindedly.

 

“Would you like me to move in? Or would you rather live at my place?”

 

“Why do you assume I’d want that? Any of that?” he pinched the bridge of his nose, not sure if he should laugh or shout at him.

 

Hashirama got up to join him by the window and Madara knew it would be pointless to remind him; he should stay put. As his strength returned, much sooner than anyone was expecting, he was listening less and less to the healers. He overheard Tobirama threatening him that he’d bind him to the bed if he couldn’t behave. It was really one of his rare good ideas, but when he told his lover so, he just smiled in such a way that made Madara all hot and embarrassed.

 

“You don’t have to decide now,” he whispered, standing too close, reaching out to caress his face. The bastard surely knew he could waver Madara’s resolve like this. “But at least think about it?”

 

Some days he wondered why he tried to resist at all. In the end it was no use; like a whirlwind, Hashirama’s mad ideas sucked him in and dropped him down somewhere else, dizzy and not quite sure how he got there. And really - as the worst damage had been already made and there was no way to undo it, what would be the use of denying that there was this _something_ between them? Though if one more fool smiled at him as if they knew his dirty secrets or even worse, came up to him to shake his hand and thank him in husky tones for saving _Hokage-sama’s_ life, he might just murder them.

 

Maybe that was the key why their connection was accepted - Madara had always been an outcast, someone who was in the village only as Hashirama insisted he had a place there and no one dared to object him. But the news got around that he saved their leader’s life and suddenly, for that, he was accepted. He wanted to hate them for it, but he found that he just didn’t care. Hashirama never corrected the rumours, never told the true story how he got injured and Madara’s role in it. His brother of course was suspicious of what they were doing in the forest in the middle of the night, but even he didn’t seem that keen to press them for details.

 

He had to admit, he was a bit bemused how things changed in such a short time. There was a part of him that considered the whole, absurd situation only temporary. After all, he had decided that he would leave, rejected Konoha and the whole idea behind it, and already left to pursue his real dream. He was to gain more might, to fight Hashirama - and somehow make a world as he thought it should be. So he was just biding his time here, in the village again, to make sure his rival was back to his old self and when that happened - he would leave for good.

 

Then, another part of him just knew it was not going to happen. He’d come back with his friend and stayed by his side ever since. He’d always remember that terrible fear of losing him, just as he lost everyone else - it was safer if he kept an eye on him, to make sure he was all right. Somewhere deep inside he also wanted the safety and caring that Hashirama offered, but he successfully kept that in secret, even from himself most of the time.

 

So he just went along as if he happened to be there, on the Senju’s side by chance, throughout the days in the hospital then even the moronic festive they’d come up with for celebrating the anniversary of the foundation of Konoha, glaring at everyone who dared to act too friendly with him, making sure it was clear; he found it a bother to attend.

 

“It’s wasn’t too bad, was it?” Hashirama asked him afterwards, obviously hardly able to disguise his joy. “I know the crowd and all the buzz is not your thing, but as far as celebrations go, it was rather nice, I think.”

 

They were back in Madara’s house, though he certainly didn’t remember inviting him in. The damned fool was looking pale and tired - he was up much more than he should have been after barely recovering from his grave injury, but he refused to go back home earlier to rest.

 

“Oh, just admit that you loved it,” Madara snorted. “All that people fussing over you and what you’ve achieved. You just thrive in attention, don’t you?”

 

“What _we_ achieved,” he corrected softly, not even trying to deny the rest that had been said.

 

“Whatever,” he turned his face away, feeling a bit lost in his own home with the way the other man was standing so close and looking at him intently.

 

“I’d say it’s now time for some private celebrations,” a lascivious grin broke out on Hashirama’s face, lightening the mood. Madara looked back at him, raising a sceptic eyebrow.

 

“Aren’t you too weak for that still?”

 

“I waited more than a week! I’d be strong enough even if just returned from death.”

 

“Well, you’ve actually just returned...”

 

He was silenced with a kiss. In no time their clothes were off them and they’ve stumbled to the bed. He didn’t let Hashirama roll on top - the horny bastard was ready to mount him in a heartbeat, apparently not even a five inch wide hole through his chest could diminish his libido - rather he pushed him on his back to examine that terrible wound.

 

He ran his fingers over the uneven edges and tender pink skin. He’d wear the mark of the injury forever - no healing power could make this scar disappear completely. He couldn’t help but admire how well he was already, even if he was bound to overtax himself the way he was unwilling to rest. Hashirama misunderstood the gesture though - he caught his wrist gently and brought his hands to his lips, not unlike he’d done in the forest, when he’d been barely alive.

 

“I’m all right now, don’t worry.”

 

“No, you’re not,” he grumbled, but was distracted as his lover rose to kiss his neck, the line of his jaw, burrowing his nose into his hair and inhaling his scent as if he smelled particularly good - that always embarrassed him, though it also sent a pleasant shiver down his spine. Just like that, Hashirama took control _again,_ playing his body, knowing just the right places to touch, kiss, caress. Madara threw his head back and moaned as he sucked gently on the sensitive skin above his collar bone.

 

It was maddening how he could do this, in the bed just as well as in their life, how could he dominate everything and anyone, including Madara, so easily. It took him _nothing_ and everybody bended to his will. The gods knew why, but it was the easiest to let him do as he wanted, whether it was about staying with him or spreading his legs...

 

Anger filled him suddenly, and he pushed the other away, sitting up.

 

“What’s the matter?” Hashirama blinked at him in surprise. Madara raked his hand through his hair in aggravation.

 

“You! You’re the matter! You never ask, just assume what I want to do...”

 

“You seemed to enjoy it...”

 

“That’s not the point! You’re driving me mad, with the way you’re so sure that you can screw me any time you want, as if I was nothing but your _bitch...”_

 

“You know I don’t think like that at all!” Hashirama grabbed his shoulders and looked him in the eye. He seemed sincere and maybe even ashamed.

 

“Don’t you? Weren’t you about to roll me on my stomach, ready to...”

 

“You can fuck me. If you want to,” he offered, cutting Madara off, and managed to look almost innocent as he said it.

 

“You know what? I want to,” the Uchiha narrowed his eyes, making sure to mask his sudden nervousness. It was always Hashirama who took the lead, and honestly, he had been happy with that. But if he was to remain in Konoha, he needed to put things on more equal footing - it wouldn’t do to let him think he could do anything he wanted. Still he hesitated, unsure how to go on now, despite how many times his lover did this to him before.

 

Hashirama didn’t have such doubts though, or maybe he just took pity on him. He smiled at him and without a second thought slid lower, to take Madara’s half-hard cock into his mouth. The Uchiha hissed in pleasure, sitting up straighter, one hand on the back of the dark head bobbing up and down on his crotch, his fingers entwining in the silky locks, the other gripping the headboard.

 

Soon he was fully erect and the Senju rose up with a self-satisfied smile. He sat astride his hips and kissed him, despite several previous warnings that he shouldn’t after such an act... and he kissed him back just as he had all those times before.

 

Hashirama reached back to take his hard length in his hand and guided it to his own opening. Showing no hesitation, he pushed down on it slowly, completely missing the whole point of this exercise, which was to make Madara feel in control. He did it like he did everything in his life - coming to a sudden decision and executing it without a second thought.

 

Ignoring Madara’s half-hearted gasps of protests to slow down as he was surely hurting, unprepared and with only his saliva as lubrication, he didn’t stop until he was penetrated completely. It was incredible to be _in_ him, to have his cock buried deep inside and just the tiniest bit intimidating as well, making his nervous he might do it wrong.

 

He pulled the bull-headed bastard close, until he had to support his weight on the wall with his arms to avoid knocking his thick skull to it, and bit savagely into his chest just above the scar, his nails raking over his back. Hashirama moved against him, his channel gripping his erection hot and tight, and the Uchiha had to grit to teeth and concentrate on not to come immediately.

 

Still, it was fast and hard from there, and once again, Hashirama dictated the pace while Madara was clinging to him for the ride. He was confident and powerful even like this, and deep inside the Uchiha could admit; it was something that he loved about him. So he just gave himself over to pleasure, thrusting up into the other man’s body, grabbing a fistful of his hair to pull his head down for a kiss.  The other embraced him so tight that it was almost painful, one strong palm on the small of his back, the other at the back of his head, cradling him close, fingers entwined in his locks as he moaned in pleasure and probably in pain as well, whispering mumbled words the shorter man couldn’t make out. Madara’s orgasm was sudden and forceful, his nails digging into solid muscles as his hips bucked up from the mattress.

 

“Just... a bit more,” his lover gasped when he felt him shuddering with his release. He tugged on his own cock and very soon his climax was splattering both of their chests. He slumped against him, crushing Madara between his hard frame and the wall. He let him rest a few heartbeats, before shoving him off.

 

“So... was that what you wanted?” He was grinning, sprawled on the bed, obviously not feeling self-conscious about being fucked in the ass like Madara was always, even after a year.

 

“Not really,” it was difficult to make a dissatisfied face when he felt boneless and sated. “You’re actually terrible in this. You didn’t get what I was saying at all.”

 

“Oh?” He pushed himself up on an elbow to look at him. “Why don’t you show me how to do it properly then?” he suggested, not affronted the slightest.

 

“But certainly not tonight!” Madara protested. “You’ve surely overstrained yourself already! I don’t want you to die in _my_ bed just because you can’t control yourself.”

 

Hashirama of course denied that anything was wrong with him, though he was looking pallid, with dark circles under his eyes, so he ignored his attempts to have more sex. Greedy bastard, didn’t know when to stop.

 

When after Madara already drifted off to sleep, just to be jarred awake by his lover’s violent coughing, he muttered an annoyed “I told you so,” and got up to bring him some water.

 

*/*/*

 

**_One last chapter to come!_ **

 

 

 


	16. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That’s it guys, we’ve reached the last chapter! Thank you everyone who followed. My undying love goes to my reviewers – you made me happy every time with your comments!  
> This is not quite The End – the story has grown on me too much, and I couldn’t just finish. There’ll be a short sequel coming up soon, so stay tuned if you’re interested!

 

 

*/*/*

 

 

Hashirama sighed as he flipped through another report. He was usually, in general, happy with his life. Then there were days - boring, long, report-reading days - when he felt he pulled the shortest straw with this position as Hokage. Where were all these scrolls and papers coming from?

 

He had half the mind to ditch the whole thing and sneak out for drink, and maybe a round of game. But he knew that Tobirama would be checking up on him. Days like this, he felt he had a keeper, not a brother.

 

“Is the Hokage someone who always stays in the village?” Madara had asked him once. He had no idea how correct he had been then.

 

“The Hokage is someone who always stays behind his bloody desk,” he muttered, scribbling his name on a decree that required his approval. “While his lover is out somewhere, having fun without him.”

 

To be fair, Madara was on a mission - an S rank one as Tobirama categorized them - leaving Hashirama alone and worried for him. At first he had tried to send him on only safer ones, or rather, not to send him at all, but a huge quarrel broke out on that, where he was accused of being overprotective, paternalistic and selfish, someone who just pretended to care for the other, but not really thinking about how they’ve felt. Hashirama thought about it long and hard and admitted his mistakes. That Madara refused to have sex with him before he did, certainly motivated him to do so.

 

But that was almost a year ago. Since then Madara was assigned missions his abilities warranted and he never tried to hold him back, though was immensely relieved every time he returned without a scratch.

 

 _“I_ know how to take care of myself,” he had told him many times, poking him on the chest, right where that scar lied. “Unlike you.”

 

He never told him that it wasn’t only the fear he might get some serious injury that made him so relieved on each and every occasion that he was back.  To see him again was also a reassurance that he didn’t change his mind and still wanted to stay in Konoha - with him.

 

Hashirama smiled softly to himself and got back to his papers with more enthusiasm. He had a great idea that would probably eliminate that fear for good. But Madara wouldn't be back before nightfall, so he had plenty time to go through each bloody piece.

 

By the time Tobirama checked on him - though he of course pretended he had something to ask - he was already finished, and staring off into space, daydreaming happily. Hashirama being ready with his paperwork took his brother by such a surprise that he agreed to go with him for a drink - but only for tea, he hastily specified, as the Hokage couldn’t afford to be seen drunk.

 

“I won’t get drunk from a cup of sake,” he protested. “Honestly you have a terrible opinion on me, brother!”

 

“I’m just realistic,” came the predictable reply.

 

Still, they had a pretty good time, though they really had only tea in the end.

 

“You should come over to dinner again,” he told Tobirama as they were leaving the place.

 

“Because last time was such a success?”

 

“Err...” last time had been a catastrophe, but he was keen on trying.

 

“You should just accept that Madara and I will never get along.”

 

“But...”

 

“I’m willing to tolerate him as long as he doesn’t hurt you, that’s all.”

 

He left it at that - for now. He knew Tobirama was not joking, and every time he tried to force his brother and partner to get friendlier, it ended badly. But he could deal with that. Mostly, everyone was happy with the situation. Who would have thought that things would turn into such a pleasing direction?

 

He was smiling on the way home - their home, close to the Uchiha compound and the Hokage office, but still away from the watchful eyes of both his brother and Madara’s household. He could see the lights in the windows from a distance, signalling his lover had arrived already, so he lengthened his steps.

 

He was just taking off his armour when Hashirama entered, looking tired but unharmed. The Senju’s glance swept over his slender form, making sure he was indeed not injured, but also to admire the view. Madara made an annoyed face, but he knew him well enough to know; he was secretly pleased.

 

The door barely closed behind him and Hashirama was there, in front of him, pulling him close for a deep kiss. It was returned with passion, so he helped him to undress further. They didn’t even reach the bed, but what was a better way to reassure himself that his lover was back with him again and unscratched, than to have passionate sex against the wall?  

 

“You could just ask me if everything was alright on the mission like a normal person,” Madara told him afterwards, when they were already tucked close to each other in the bed.

 

“Was everything all right on the mission?” he repeated dutifully, scratching his inner thigh clean of any itchy dried patches of semen.

 

“Of course it was!” his lover snapped, “How many times do I have to tell you - I know how to take care of myself!”

 

Hashirama just smiled and kissed the top of his head.

 

“I have an idea. Actually two ideas,” he started slowly. Madara blinked up at him with suspicion, so he looked steadily back, trying to radiate that he knew what he was doing and that he should be trusted.

 

“I’m not going to like them, am I?”

 

“Why do you say that?”

 

“Because of the face you make!”

 

“What face?”

 

“ _That_ face! The one which means you have some moronic, dangerous, unacceptable idea and you’ll somehow make me agree to it! But not this time - I don’t know what you’ve planned, but I absolutely refuse to...”

 

“Would you just hear me out?” When Madara fell silent, he continued. “I thought we might have a family. Children,” he clarified at the other’s blank stare.

 

“I guess you’ve noticed by now that I’m not a woman...” he sat up suddenly, pointing an accusing finger at him. “If you have knocked up some bitch and now you expect me to raise your bastard offspring...!”

 

Hashirama put a gentle hand over his mouth and kissed his forehead when his palm was bitten.

 

“You know very well that I haven’t _knocked up_ anyone. What I’ve meant is that we could adopt them. The fights always leave lots of the children orphaned. They are in our own clans as well, I’m sure you know.”

 

“Pray tell, how many do you want to have, as you so obviously been planning this for a while?”

 

“Hmm... five or six?” Madara wanted to get out of the bed at that, so he grabbed his arm to hold him back. “Just joking,” he lied quickly. “Let’s say three...?”

 

“Two at the most! And at least one has to be an Uchiha!”

 

“So you’re alright with this?” he grinned, kissing him again. Madara grumbled that he didn’t mean that all, and Hashirama knew he’d make him fight for this a couple of times just on principal. But also he suspected that he really wouldn’t mind - he believed it would be like getting back their brothers, who have died so young, at least to a degree. With more responsibility possibly, but they could handle that… In general, he imagined having kids must be fun. And if Madara had not just him, but a whole family to stay for, he’d surely never again think about leaving...

 

“You haven’t told me the other one,” his lover said later, when he was half asleep, half day-dreaming, planning their future.

 

“Hmm?”

 

“You said you have two ideas...”

 

“Oh yes!” he sat up, overcome with enthusiasm. “I plan to elect twin statues of the two of us, as the founders of the village and I wanted to ask you; what do you think would be the best place for them!”

 

“Why did I even ask...? Honestly, what’s it with you and statues?”

 

“Don’t you think it’s a good idea?”

 

“It’s a terrible idea, and I forbid you to do it. Isn’t it enough that all of us need to stare at that monstrosity on the side of the mountain? Thank you, but I don’t want the after-ages to remember me like _that.”_

 

“Oh... just think about it, will you, and I’ll ask again tomorrow...”

 

“No!”

 

“...then can we have three kids?”

 

“Tell me again - why I’m here with you at all?”

 

“Because you love me?” Hashirama suggested hopefully. Madara narrowed his eyes in annoyance, but at least he didn’t deny it.

 

“Just go to sleep already.”

  


**FIN**

  



End file.
